fuckitybye

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014

[Malc needed someone to terrorise and so he went off in search of Columbus, only to discover he's nowhere to be found.]

So has Christopher Robin fucked back off to the fucking Hundred Acre Wood, then?

Not even two months and one fucking warden already gone. This is better than my first two months in Whitehall.

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What? Hang on, no. One, I don't take people's fucking cast-offs and two, if you're so fucking eager to pawn his arse off on me, I'd like to know a bit more why.

I'm not "pawning him off," he isn't a piece of property to be passed around. He's a good man and a good warden. I don't think we're the right fit anymore. Things have changed. And, Tucker, I'd prefer you to have him than someone like Harry or Paddy.

...I really don't fucking know what to make of that, as a matter of fact.

Guess I'm just a bit fucking puzzled, yeah? If he's such a "good man" and all, what makes him not the "right fit"? Bit vague there, see? I'm not disputing you, I'm just asking for a bit of fucking clarification.

We're both stubborn and unwilling to budge in our arguments. Neither of us will get anywhere.

Well. That's a glowing fucking recommendation if I ever heard one.

Also—how much say have we got in this whole assignment thing? Looks like it just rains down like so much shit from on high.

If the Admiral listens to our requests for books and clothes, he should listen to requests for specific wardens.

I wonder how much the sod actually listens.

He listens. He listens more than God does.

Not hard to listen more than God does, seeing as how I'm not fucking sure God exists.

He exists. Somewhere.

Tell yourself whatever you need to fucking get by, I guess.

I do.

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Re: Private - If this is over the line, let me know. I can edit.

Re: Private - not at all. And, er, likewise.

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