The pitcher of tea had long ceased to sweat by the time Tani had finished dragging the crates upon crates of loose papers, receipts, and other miscellany of arcane origin outside and under the awning of the rather dilapidated office. Despite the fact that she wore only vest and shorts, sweat had made its mark under her armpits and down her back, courtesy of the high Thanalan sun; despite an early morning start and the best of intentions, they were already running behind. It wasn't precisely the fault of their employer, despite the fact that his steadily blooming business had long ago outstripped his ability to manage its accounts and paperwork; there was a reason that professionals such as herself and Master Duchamps existed in the first place. Namely, navigation of said accounts and paperwork could be a royal pain in the ass -- especially once extra things like tariffs, taxes, and forms for import or export came into play.
Nor could Tani precisely blame him for the fact that a number of bugs (and/or rodents) had gotten into his store of paper materials. She'd been forced to send Master Duchamps to the nearest city to buy more of the specially lined account books that were going to be their constant companions for the next few moons, as well as extra loose paper and a few more journals. Keeping track of the tangle meant meticulous note-keeping, and Tani would rather keep too much on hand over too little. Provided it was stored properly this time.
She took out a handkerchief, wiping her brow of sweat as she glowered up at the sun. She'd already (mostly) organized the contents of the boxes with a system of dated vs undated, receipts vs account books, signed paperwork vs miscellaneous forms. Now all that remained was matching things together and reconciling them as best as they were able, though from the work they'd already done on the very oldest bits and bobs, Tani knew that the error margins were going to be much higher than was typically accepted. A cringe-worthy fifteen percent, at least. They just had to hope that no one would want or need to take a peek at the archives of Master Tsuwamono's books, because chances were high the result would not go in their favor.
Even so, Tani and Master Duchamps had begun to find a disturbing trend that she very much hoped proved not to be a pattern, because if so...
Her thoughts scattered as she drank from the pitcher of tea to find it unpleasantly warm. Not hot, not cold, but something that faintly reminded her of sweat and humidity. She made a face, taking the pitcher back into their (admittedly not much cooler) office to poke around in the ice box for what remained of the ice. While she was at it, she pulled together a platter of snacks, figuring that Master Duchamps would also be ready for a break by the time he returned; she'd have neither of them losing concentration over lack of food or drink, especially in the heat.
She waited for him outside, under the awning and the dubious shade it provided, uncomfortably conscious of the way her thighs stuck to each other and to the rough wooden bench of the table, more or less enjoying a slightly cooler cup of tea.
She was not looking forward to the day ahead.
Nor could Tani precisely blame him for the fact that a number of bugs (and/or rodents) had gotten into his store of paper materials. She'd been forced to send Master Duchamps to the nearest city to buy more of the specially lined account books that were going to be their constant companions for the next few moons, as well as extra loose paper and a few more journals. Keeping track of the tangle meant meticulous note-keeping, and Tani would rather keep too much on hand over too little. Provided it was stored properly this time.
She took out a handkerchief, wiping her brow of sweat as she glowered up at the sun. She'd already (mostly) organized the contents of the boxes with a system of dated vs undated, receipts vs account books, signed paperwork vs miscellaneous forms. Now all that remained was matching things together and reconciling them as best as they were able, though from the work they'd already done on the very oldest bits and bobs, Tani knew that the error margins were going to be much higher than was typically accepted. A cringe-worthy fifteen percent, at least. They just had to hope that no one would want or need to take a peek at the archives of Master Tsuwamono's books, because chances were high the result would not go in their favor.
Even so, Tani and Master Duchamps had begun to find a disturbing trend that she very much hoped proved not to be a pattern, because if so...
Her thoughts scattered as she drank from the pitcher of tea to find it unpleasantly warm. Not hot, not cold, but something that faintly reminded her of sweat and humidity. She made a face, taking the pitcher back into their (admittedly not much cooler) office to poke around in the ice box for what remained of the ice. While she was at it, she pulled together a platter of snacks, figuring that Master Duchamps would also be ready for a break by the time he returned; she'd have neither of them losing concentration over lack of food or drink, especially in the heat.
She waited for him outside, under the awning and the dubious shade it provided, uncomfortably conscious of the way her thighs stuck to each other and to the rough wooden bench of the table, more or less enjoying a slightly cooler cup of tea.
She was not looking forward to the day ahead.
Precise. ⚜ Vivacious. ⚜ Wicked.