Time for a Paperwork out

Steve sat there, in his office- no, his hovel, as he frantically finished up the remnants of the last batch of paperwork that was due for the next paycycle. It was late, he was technically working overtime at this point, yet still his mind forced his weary eyes to scan and fact check the documents that had been recently submitted. The faculty tended to get antsy around pay day right before the semester started, Steve could never figure out why, save for perhaps the teachers wanted to make sure they were getting properly paid for putting up with the trials and tirublations of teaching the supernatural.

The fact his job paid such a premium for him made the man feel better- well, maybe more a bit- actually a smidge- to be honest, it didn't make him feel better at all now that he thought about it. The only saving grace he had going for him was the fact that he was about to wrap up for the day. The bar in town, his usual dive for escaping the confines of the administrative wing, would just be starting happy hour. That tentacle monster really knew how to shake a martini, as well as slash prices for them too.

With a sigh of relief, Steve signed his initials on the last form for that month's pay-cycle, sliding the documents away from his desk into the stuffed bin of completed packages he would send to the finance team the next morning to transfer money to the faculty's accounts. For a moment, the human took pride in his feat of inhuman will. Still, the man stood up from behind his desk, put on his jacket over his pinstripe suit, and began walking towards the door only to find a stranger having appeared and addressed him.

The woman was short, which was saying something seeing as how Steve himself admitted to his less than average height at a meager 5'9". She had dark skin that looked warm and creamy like chocolate milk, but had the physique and overall physicla presence of a professional wrestler. Her frame literally took up the doorway, making it impossible for the physically unimpressive ginger to slide past her and make a break for his car outside the building. His eyes glanced down as she spoke at the documents he could make out in her hands, his gaze narrowing.

"Benefits... I hate Benefits" he said to himself, his mind to weary and addled to bother hushing his voice or speaking under his breath. Now, Steve may not have necessarily hated benefits normally- in fact, having 30 paid days off as well as holidays was pretty great all things considered, it was just the hassle and logistics of adding a new faculty member into the database that made the ordeal tedious. With a sigh, Steve backed up into his office and sat down in his chair, gesturing for the stranger to do the same.

"Name, Date of Birth, Country of Birth, Zodiac sign, mother's maiden name, current address, names and ages of dependents, past 5 sexual mates as well as their species, role in the school, social security number, bank account number, transfering number, favorite number, number of your age inverted backwards and translated to roman numerals, number of time you've tried to ask a djin or genie for unlimited wishes, your staff ID number, your favorite drink, your martial status, your previous health insurance provider, your ancestors and any magic or supernatural abilites they had, as well as your Middle Initial..." Steve looked down at his paper, pen in hand, as he listed off roughly 20 different details to the stranger in an almost robotic monotone voice. He was gone, he had been consumed by the paper devils of the night, his mind flayed wide open by the eternal god of black and white parchment. Only a hollow and exhausted husk remaind to stare back up at the stranger as he waited for her response to his verbal onslaught of questions.

"Did you get all that?"

Steve's brow narrowed as he heard the woman's short and simple reply. She had answered only half of his questions, a lack of information like this was grounds enough for him to deny her paperwork straight out of the gate. The human grumbled to himself, narrowing his gaze as he looked down at the papers on his desk. The ginger could feel his tired mind trembling as he replied, "No social security number? No ID? Nothing?" he asked expectantly, looking back up at Milk as he considered what to do next.

Well, hell with it, he was already on overtime. "Fuck it, close enough" he said, caving in as he grabbed his stamp with the school's official seal and pressed it down on her paperwork, notarizing it and keeping some of the essentials for himself. He'd give it to one of the grunts tommorow to put in the file. His work done, Steve got up from his desk and stretched out his back, he was getting old. "You'll be in our system in 5-10 working days. If you have any more questions feel free to come to me during office hours on monday" Steve stated, grabbing his briefcase as the keys to his car.

Walking briskly through the admistration wing, the ginger stopped at the front door, making sure the other woman was following him. "Come come, I've got to lock the place up for the night" he said, tapping his foot in anticipation of escaping the stone prison to freedom. "Don't want to miss happy hour now do we? I take it you want to come along?" the man joked with an exhausted chuckle, the length of the day stretching him mentally thin.

Wait, did she just take his offhand comment as an invitation? Steve rubbed some of the sleep out of his eyes a she looked flabbergasted at Milk. Was this read? She had never heard of happy hour? Once again, the human felt warily out of his depth as he found himself in rather unexpected company. "I-I'm not sure that'd be appropriate Ms. Milk. As co-workers, us being seen together could be interpreted poorly" the short ginger said as he tried to have his brain catch up with his mouth as he spoke.

"Happy Hour is a human thing where we, uhh, basically sort of show up at once and turn a pub into a party" the man said, his fried braing strugglign to throw out some sort of explanation for the tradition. Still, the look on Milk's face told him all he needed to know, she had resolved to come with him and learn about this strange pastime herself. With a defeated sigh, Steve motioned for her to come with him. If she would indeed follow him outside after he locked up the office, the two would walk briskly to his 'Soccer Mom' van that he picked up when he moved at a cheap price, before sliding into the driver's seat. "Buckle up, please" he asked the muscular woman before starting the engine.

"You got any favorite music?" he asked Milk, flipping through the radio before starting to back up out of the parking spot. A few minutes later, the two were driving away down the road towards Downtown Manta Carlos city. As the two drove listening to some music in the background, Steve spoke up, "So, why are you called Milk?" he asked, curious about the even curiouser name.

Steve was assaulted by a plethora of questions as he drove along, Milk certainly was curious. The ginger wondered just how much the woman knew. She seemed perfectly normal to him all things considered, but her obliviousness made him feel as though there was much more to her than met the eye. "A pub is basically what people call a bar when they don't want to sound trashy" he said with a shrug while he fiddled with the radio. "Of course other species are allowed, I supposed I just sort of forgot about the other species on the island, especially since where I'm from its only humans" he said, not wanting to sound like a speciesist. As for the last part of her question the man spoke honestly, "I mean, I guess it could happen multiple hours if the pub was popular enough. I think its just to squeeze little people like you and me for all the cash we have though" he said with a chuckle as he finally found a radio station that might have suited what the woman was looking for in terms of music.

Fortunately, the man stumbled across a song from his youth. "Ahh, this one's a classic. Are you a Phil Collins fan?" he asked, a small smile on his face as he settled on the station as he drove along the road towards Manta Carlos city. "Here it is, this part gets me every time" the man said right before the drum solo hit. The ginger slapped his hands on the wheel as he drove his 'soccer mom' car down the highway. "I've been waitin' for this moment, all of my liiiiife, oh lawwwwd~" the man sang to himself a bit as he slowed down to make a right turn.

As the man made the hard right turn though, his heart suddenly raced as he felt the car swerve violently, the curve-facing side of the car coming up off the ground as the unexpected weight of Milk nearly caused them to flip. The woman was more like a living boulder than a carton of dairy product. Steve yelped and grit his teeth as the car managed to stay on the ground, turning right and eventually coming back down to the ground with a thud that rattled his brain. As he continued to drive, now twenty mph less than before, the man meekly asked the other woman, "I realize its taboo to ask, but, just exactly how much do you weigh?" the facultyman said as he saw the lights of the city approach over the horizon. They would be at his usual dive in maybe ten minutes or so.