#thorn ate one of fox’s improvisations once and vowed never again

[rooksunday]

thinking again about corrie guards fundraising. today i am thinking about the most comprehensive production line of fairy cakes you’ve seen in your life.

“harris, what’s this item line for flour?” fox asked, walking into the quartermaster’s office, datapad held before him like a blaster. “there’s two hundred extra kilos of it. are you planning to use the stuff for munitions?”

harris didn’t look up from her own ‘pad. “you sighed off on it, right? sir?”

“yes. because you backdated the ‘request’ and the stuff is squatting in the delivery bay, inviting something called weevils, according to the supply officers. why do i now know what weevils are, harris? also why do you need a venator weight of…” fox made a show of consulting his datapad. “butter, sugar—“

harris looked up. “did you get the flimsi cases?”

“corporal harris. i did not put in the requisition form. you put in the requisition form. did you order flimsi cases? if so, may i be so forward as to ask kriffin’ why— the haran is this now?”

having booted open the office door like he was working a drugs bust, thire marched in, shoulder checking fox; fox tried not to take it personally, since thire was obscured behind a tower of boxes. he kicked thire in the shin nonetheless.

“what the kark— sir, is that you? didn’t know you baked,” thire said.

“i don’t—“

“he bakes?” harris asked, speaking past fox like he was a line item. “thorn didn’t say he baked.”

“what does thorn—“

“here,” thire said, again speaking over fox, as he thunked the boxes on the edge of harris’ desk. several styluses rolled to the floor to join their fallen comrades. neither thire nor harris reacted. “as ordered. you owe me three arm sessions. minimum.”

harris sighed gustily but nodded. “did you get the vanilla?”

“it’ll be here tonight. i talked to my smuggler contact in—“

fox remembered from command training that retreat was a valid option when overwhelmed by forces of utter horseshit. he made for the door.

two days later he ate his weight in fairy cakes and immediately signed off on harris’ waiting requisition orders.