“You’re the expert there. Don’t really spend much time on shit like this.” He’s not a NERD!!!
Melvin would take his word for it on the surface. It was probably pretty normal. Bar the fact that most mail rooms were not operated by fire dudes. Probably. Actually, had he ever even actually been in a mail room? He couldn’t remember. This was going to occupy his train of thought more than it had any right to. It wasn’t like he wrote a lot, and any deliveries he made were a little too local.
Besides, who would even send a pizza through the mail? Not even Johnny was that accommodating of customer requests. Probably. Hadn’t happened yet, as far as he knew. Maybe someone on the early shifts had to lovingly stamp a greasy, piping hot cardboard box to be sent off to who knows where else.
Abel Lazarus I might be able to better direct you if I know which you want.
… Where were they again? Something about a pen. Right. Oh no. He’d gone down that mental tangent while looking a little too shoulder-ways. He does manage to notice Abel noticing, but then again he didn’t say anything, so maybe he hadn’t actually noticed. Phew. Good thing Abel was just as distracted fixing his cool earring thing as he was by whatever just happened there.
“Uh. Still thinking about it, I guess. Don’t know who’d wanna write me and don’t know who I’d wanna write either.”
Punctuated with a resounding shrug.
“Probably faster if I just write something, though.” As much as he hated ‘doing things,’ it was undoubtedly going to be really boring staying here. Which was kind of worse than doing things he hated. And it’d be faster than having to sift through more paper.
Abel Lazarus Mail rooms aren’t exactly the sort of place exciting things usually happen.
“There’s probably something. Nothing here’s just… normal.”
Other than the guy made of fire who has not burned the entire paper-filled car down yet, who was apparently very normal. By train standards, something as normal as a mail room was weird, and vice versa. Or something.
