<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/2b/Eddy.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Eddy Hughes (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=173794.msg8238220#msg8238220)<br/><strong>Occupation/Status:</strong>Social Worker/wasting away at work<br/><strong>Location:</strong>His Office<br/><strong>Action Summary:</strong>Submitting paperwork, debating food, receiving a phone call<br/><strong>Tagged Characters:</strong>Aaron<br/><strong> Open to Others?:</strong>Sure<br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Was all of this crap really necessary? With far more pressure than was advised considering the general fragility of paper he signed at the bottom of the fifth page scribbling the date next to it before slapping the pen down on wooden desk.  He stretched his hand out over it wincing slightly as something that probably shouldn't pop did, rather loudly actually, the sound almost seeming to echo in his small office.  Jesus Christ was he getting a writing callus? Frowning he looked closer at his index finger where the pen often rested.  The skin there was noticeably raised.  Awesome.  Fucking paperwork.  It was swiftly becoming the bane of his existence.<br/><br/>Still he had brought all of this on himself. A five page form, which often had to be copied several times and sent to multiple other agencies all because he'd opened his big mouth and offered to be a collaborative service liaison.  He had a rather disturbing habit of doing that.  It was getting bad enough that people didn't even mention when projects needed places filled because it was becoming readily apparent that his plate was grossly full.  Metaphorical work plate that is, his rumbling stomach reminded him rather insistently that the sun was down fully and he'd had nothing to eat since scavenging the tortilla chips and borderline questionable salsa out of the fridge around lunch time.<br/><br/>It could wait until he got home.  The thought of trying to make anything, even if that just meant punching a few buttons on a microwave didn't sit well,  but luckily he'd secured and pretty much memorized the take out menu for every place in a two block radius.  At least a few of them had to be open and delivering.  Pizza? The next rumble of his stomach sounded more than a little disapproving.  Thai food? He was reaching for his phone to put in the order when it began to vibrate on the desk.  Taking a deep breath he pushed thoughts of food aside ready to adopt the calm professional tone he usually used when answering ... then he saw the name on the screen and he shook his head letting a few more seconds pass before picking it up.<br/><br/>His chair creaked loudly as he leaned back in it balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder.  "Listen you need to get yourself another sugar daddy, there is no way I'm posting bail for you again..." The small smile that the jab was delivered with could be heard even over the phone, but so could the genuine weariness behind it.