There werenāt as many places to hide in the Archives as there were in the library. It was less about the size of the place, and more to do with what was expected of Martin. Heād had plenty of time to get used to the library after the years he spent working at the Magnus Institute. And it followed a logical pattern, something he was always good at. A book had its appropriate number, it went in the appropriate spot. Some days, heād show up for his shift to an entire cart full of misplaced tomes, eager to return home, and heād lose himself in the work of it.
He sighed at detritus of bad organization scattered before him, longing for the life he had two months ago. It wasnāt so bad, really. All just work, wasnāt it? Even if the files down here had numbers on them that didnāt make sense. Nevermind that, to file anything properly, one had to shuffle everything that had been haphazardly placed there somewhere else to make room for the proper ones.
Some days, Martin felt like those displaced files, waiting their turn to fit in.
In addition the file box heād made his personal mission to sort through that day, he also found himself in possession of a single cassette tape, its corresponding statement number and date of recording etched in fine-tipped pen on a label in a neatly frantic hand. It was Martinās job to find a home for that, too, and the other ones that would no doubt be joining it as the current Head Archivist recorded them.
Heād listened to it. How could he not? Heād followed along with the statement, reading along with the words on paper. It was creepy, sure, but that wasnāt what plagued him.
I donāt count Martin as heās unlikely to contribute anything but delays.
āI guess heās still mad about the dog thing,ā Martin said to himself, running his finger along the edge of the cassette case, pressing a corner into the pad of his thumb. āA-and maybe also the toppled file thing.ā A pause. āAnd maybe the mug mishap.ā Another heavy exhale left him. Maybe delays -are- the only things I contributeā¦
Before he could lead himself down that self-deprecating line of thought, he pushed himself to his feet. These files werenāt going toā¦file themselves. Besides, it was just the growing pains of a new role, a new job. It wasnāt the first time heād awkwardly fumbled his way through learning something new, and it probably wouldnāt be his last. He just wished that he could get the bitterness in his bossās voice out of his head. Martin couldnāt bring him to be too optimistic that being really good at filing would be enough to change Jonās opinion of him, but it wouldnāt hurt to try anyway.
[Welcome to my hopeful attempt to do a POV for each episode, starting from the very beginning. No edits, we kayak like Tim, or something.]
amandla
titsay
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
