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fandomweekly2024-08-05 01:49 pm
a_little_apocalypse) wrote in fandomweekly2024-08-05 01:49 pm
Entry tags:
[#229] Bound By Red Tape (Control)
Theme Prompt: #229 - Optimism
Title: Bound By Red Tape
Fandom: Control
Rating/Warnings: PG13 / none
Bonus: No
Word Count: 998
Summary: Trench attends meetings, Darling reaps the rewards.
Trench had walked the corridors of Executive enough times to know how long he had before needing to leave his office. He'd stay at his desk until he had to leave and not a moment before, the time it took to finish his cigarette calculated down to the minute. And there could be some leeway, he knew that - the privilege of the Director, to show up fashionably late or not at all - but to do so would be to give them ammunition, to let them accuse him of slacking, or slipping, and that, simply, was not a possibility that Trench was willing to risk. He'd be there at the appointed time. He saw it in younger recruits, newer hires, turning up in plenty of time to show their dedication and enthusiasm--...
Don't give them a moment more of your time than they need. They won't thank you for it.
Thoughts would drift through his mind as the smoke dissipated in his office, the slightest hope - too strong a word - that this morning's meeting would go smoothly, quickly, with little fuss. He always thought that, and knew that he did, and that the less he was in the mood for anybody's bureaucratic bullshit would be the appointments most likely to devolve into stubborn arguments, with all due respect-- and nobody leaving the room until lunchtime or beyond. It was almost a game at this point, to wonder just how badly any given meeting would break down. Whose fault would it be? What completely meaningless point would be the one to catch somebody unawares, stubborn pride refusing to allow them to back down even for a moment? As long as it isn't me, Trench would think.
If his presence could be required with little actual input was the best case scenario. Let them argue it amongst themselves until it needed signing off. A final and decisive signature that would draw the matter to a close, anything to shut them up. Budget was barely an issue, he knew that and knew that they knew that, but he also knew that the numbers on the page were not what was important - it was about which sector had received a raise and which had had its amount slashed, what costs were considered 'justified' and which department had a higher percentage than another. Which departments had the Director's confidence - and, by extension, that of the Bureau itself. That was what it came down to.
A cigarette before, a cigarette after. In both cases, the thought, I need this. The silence beforehand, to prepare. The silence afterward, to recover. Paperwork and promises then lay on the shoulders of Zachariah Trench, and he felt that he had the patience and the tolerance for neither. No upper limit for the administrative desire to take, take, take.
And as the Director, you're the figurehead of all of this, aren't you? The most visible symbol of everything wrong with this process.
Then, Darling would appear - fresh-faced and enthusiastic in the way that only a man who hadn't spent his morning attending tedious and repetitive meetings could be. Waltzing in as if he had open access to the Director's Office. (Trench knew certain members of staff that would accuse him of such a thing; as Darling stood in front of him, hands pressed to the desk, he'd think that they might not be incorrect in their accusations.)
"So? What's the verdict?"
Trench regarded Darling coolly as he lit up another cigarette. "There is no verdict. We'll reconvene after the weekend. ...Give certain colleagues time to calm themselves."
Darling's smile diminished to hear this; nodding his acceptance of that fact, he turned to seat himself in one of the chairs facing Trench's desk. "After the weekend? That must have been quite some... disagreement of opinion."
"You know what they're like." Trench gave no further justification.
"Hm." Darling thought this over, fingers pressed to his lips. "Well, I'll get the ball rolling this afternoon. No point in waiting around."
"What? Darling, no, that's the whole point--"
Darling held his hands out defensively. "You'll reconvene after the weekend. We'll get your approval, and we'll be ready to go. Or should we be delayed further?" He leant back in his chair, smiling serenely. "I'm respecting the outcome. Nothing will happen without your go-ahead. Simply, when that does happen, we'll be ready for it."
"You might not get that go-ahead."
"Says who? The Director?"
"You know it's not only my decision."
"But it is partly your decision...? Maybe it's only my own naiveté, but I feel that the Director's word should count for something, in this circumstance. What you say goes, right? The last word on the subject?"
"Being the last word only means having to endure all that comes before. That's all."
Giving a light shrug, Darling leant forward in the chair. "You can't argue that the logic isn't sound, though. Smooth the process, for when we get your approval."
"Which you might not get."
"I'd like to believe you have at least that much authority, Director Trench." He gave a smirk. "Sir."
Trench took a long drag from his cigarette, staring evenly over his glasses towards Darling. "Do you think your tone particularly persuasive?"
Darling pushed himself up from the chair, walking around the desk to where Trench sat. "Oh, I didn't realise this was a matter requiring persuasion. If that's the case, that... certainly changes things somewhat. Should I also wait until after the weekend, or can I submit an advance proposal...?"
"You're free to do as you like. I can't guarantee a successful outcome." Another drag; he blew the smoke in Darling's direction.
"I'll just have to make sure my argument is water-tight, then, won't I?" (Darling's hand went to the knot of his tie, pulling it loose.)
"As the Director, I'm open to suggestion." Trench swung around in his chair to face Darling, leaning back slowly as he spread his arms out, expression nonchalant. "... Convince me."
Title: Bound By Red Tape
Fandom: Control
Rating/Warnings: PG13 / none
Bonus: No
Word Count: 998
Summary: Trench attends meetings, Darling reaps the rewards.
Trench had walked the corridors of Executive enough times to know how long he had before needing to leave his office. He'd stay at his desk until he had to leave and not a moment before, the time it took to finish his cigarette calculated down to the minute. And there could be some leeway, he knew that - the privilege of the Director, to show up fashionably late or not at all - but to do so would be to give them ammunition, to let them accuse him of slacking, or slipping, and that, simply, was not a possibility that Trench was willing to risk. He'd be there at the appointed time. He saw it in younger recruits, newer hires, turning up in plenty of time to show their dedication and enthusiasm--...
Don't give them a moment more of your time than they need. They won't thank you for it.
Thoughts would drift through his mind as the smoke dissipated in his office, the slightest hope - too strong a word - that this morning's meeting would go smoothly, quickly, with little fuss. He always thought that, and knew that he did, and that the less he was in the mood for anybody's bureaucratic bullshit would be the appointments most likely to devolve into stubborn arguments, with all due respect-- and nobody leaving the room until lunchtime or beyond. It was almost a game at this point, to wonder just how badly any given meeting would break down. Whose fault would it be? What completely meaningless point would be the one to catch somebody unawares, stubborn pride refusing to allow them to back down even for a moment? As long as it isn't me, Trench would think.
If his presence could be required with little actual input was the best case scenario. Let them argue it amongst themselves until it needed signing off. A final and decisive signature that would draw the matter to a close, anything to shut them up. Budget was barely an issue, he knew that and knew that they knew that, but he also knew that the numbers on the page were not what was important - it was about which sector had received a raise and which had had its amount slashed, what costs were considered 'justified' and which department had a higher percentage than another. Which departments had the Director's confidence - and, by extension, that of the Bureau itself. That was what it came down to.
A cigarette before, a cigarette after. In both cases, the thought, I need this. The silence beforehand, to prepare. The silence afterward, to recover. Paperwork and promises then lay on the shoulders of Zachariah Trench, and he felt that he had the patience and the tolerance for neither. No upper limit for the administrative desire to take, take, take.
And as the Director, you're the figurehead of all of this, aren't you? The most visible symbol of everything wrong with this process.
Then, Darling would appear - fresh-faced and enthusiastic in the way that only a man who hadn't spent his morning attending tedious and repetitive meetings could be. Waltzing in as if he had open access to the Director's Office. (Trench knew certain members of staff that would accuse him of such a thing; as Darling stood in front of him, hands pressed to the desk, he'd think that they might not be incorrect in their accusations.)
"So? What's the verdict?"
Trench regarded Darling coolly as he lit up another cigarette. "There is no verdict. We'll reconvene after the weekend. ...Give certain colleagues time to calm themselves."
Darling's smile diminished to hear this; nodding his acceptance of that fact, he turned to seat himself in one of the chairs facing Trench's desk. "After the weekend? That must have been quite some... disagreement of opinion."
"You know what they're like." Trench gave no further justification.
"Hm." Darling thought this over, fingers pressed to his lips. "Well, I'll get the ball rolling this afternoon. No point in waiting around."
"What? Darling, no, that's the whole point--"
Darling held his hands out defensively. "You'll reconvene after the weekend. We'll get your approval, and we'll be ready to go. Or should we be delayed further?" He leant back in his chair, smiling serenely. "I'm respecting the outcome. Nothing will happen without your go-ahead. Simply, when that does happen, we'll be ready for it."
"You might not get that go-ahead."
"Says who? The Director?"
"You know it's not only my decision."
"But it is partly your decision...? Maybe it's only my own naiveté, but I feel that the Director's word should count for something, in this circumstance. What you say goes, right? The last word on the subject?"
"Being the last word only means having to endure all that comes before. That's all."
Giving a light shrug, Darling leant forward in the chair. "You can't argue that the logic isn't sound, though. Smooth the process, for when we get your approval."
"Which you might not get."
"I'd like to believe you have at least that much authority, Director Trench." He gave a smirk. "Sir."
Trench took a long drag from his cigarette, staring evenly over his glasses towards Darling. "Do you think your tone particularly persuasive?"
Darling pushed himself up from the chair, walking around the desk to where Trench sat. "Oh, I didn't realise this was a matter requiring persuasion. If that's the case, that... certainly changes things somewhat. Should I also wait until after the weekend, or can I submit an advance proposal...?"
"You're free to do as you like. I can't guarantee a successful outcome." Another drag; he blew the smoke in Darling's direction.
"I'll just have to make sure my argument is water-tight, then, won't I?" (Darling's hand went to the knot of his tie, pulling it loose.)
"As the Director, I'm open to suggestion." Trench swung around in his chair to face Darling, leaning back slowly as he spread his arms out, expression nonchalant. "... Convince me."
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