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Theoretically when one attained the rank of a full hunter--let alone a specialization in all but actual paperwork--one should be exempt from the bitchiest of b***h work, presumably keeping busy elsewhere or at the very least resting on hard-earned laurels. At the very least one shouldn't still be scraping out minis cages and scrubbing toilets five days a week, but Taym liked to stay busy, and saw no reason he shouldn't be getting his hands dirty in the pursuit of having ways to fill up the too-many hours in the day.

So he was down in the labs, and he working his way down a wing of tanks and cages, marking down the general condition of the habitats and the creatures within, mindlessly ticking away checkboxes, and occasionally stopping either to examine something especially repulsive or to let something particularly cute chase his fingers through the glass. In the event of the latter he was not above suddenly deciding that this particular mini also needed the "cage cleaned" section of the checklist marked off, nor above cradling the tamer ones to his chest while he wiped everything down, or engaging in an enthusiastic game of catch-the-candy if no one was around to stop him.

At the moment he crouched at a waist-high row of cages, attempting to coax from one of them an especially adorable specimen. He'd been reduced to helpless sentimental noises the first time he'd laid eyes on it, and the novelty had not yet worn off. It was cute as ********>.

prolixity

THE THING HAS BEEN DONE

The awkwardness suspended between them was, despite the minipet's ignorance, almost tangible. After a hesitation, Taym stepped aside, scooping his clipboard back up.

"Miller," he said, after a pause. And then: "Tiny."

Taym watched him silently and completely without judgment. Truth told he was thinking of Rep's repeated comments about cruelty when it came to animals, and although he was engaged in a bit of doublethink on the topic of minipets specifically, most of what he felt was relief. He still wanted, despite himself, to allow himself to like Jordan, and watching the way he handled the adorable creature helped.

"Does she sing like a nightingale?" he asked.

"It suits her," he said after another pause, absently glancing towards the next cage and shuffling down the list on the clipboard. "You must come down here for her a lot," he added, gesturing at her, at the harness, taking in the entire easy process.

A beat of hesitation.

"Are you planning on leaving her down here, then?" The idea made him uneasy, and not just because the cats had arrived with a little card indicating the number of experiments they'd survived. More than that it was a sympathy, against his will, for what he imagined Jordan's life must be like right now: no matter that the man had friends, had work, had drive and intelligence and a good nature. He also had everything else, or more accurately, he didn't have a lot of things.

(And they were things that in Taym's opinion he was better off without, for a long list of reasons. But Taym had often ached for things he was better off without.)

It seemed Taym was incapable of speaking to Jordan without a hesitation first, and this was no exception.

"I have a--one of the tank things. A carrier. It was sort of a ********' ordeal to get but they're--out there, you know. And once you get one it's no more work than coming down here for it."

Another pause, thick with Taym obviously hovering on the edge of saying something else. "The crazy b***h who distributes them is--is in my division. I don't know if that actually scores points with her or not but if it does--"

He left the unspoken offer hanging.

Someone less inclined to losing his cool over concentrated quantities of cute might have felt awkward watching Jordan fawn on the pet, but Taym didn't even seem to notice as the object of his address flipped from man to mini.

"Sure--you know Zoe? Moon, sorta goth lookin' chick with the crazy eyes." He performed here, quite without thinking, a spot-on impression of Zoe's eager face. "Or Oz works, but ******** dealin' with Oz," he said, as though Zoe were somehow preferable.

Luckily the gesture was not lost on Taym, who understood it immediately and intimately and put the clipboard down on the ground again and only paused for a half a breath before obliging, reaching to take her into his arms and stroking her ears with immediate fondness.

"Seriously," he repeated, a little bit awkward, a lot sincere. "If you need help with it, let me know. It must be hard to--to get attached and realize she's still down here." On top of everything else went unsaid. "And I owe you, anyway."