Or Ging and Pariston, whichever you like :)
I dida PariGing version too!! || Outer Space AU || Pariston x Ging
TheGalactic Federation was Ging’s least favorite place to be, and he wasrather certain that the Federation’s leader was his least favoriteperson in the galaxy. Which said a lot. There had to be…at leastten billion people in the galaxy? Maybe twenty? He wasn’t up to datewith the census. That was the Federation’s job.
Andthey were very, very good at their jobs.
Thebureaucracy of their headquarters was a special kind of hell, andGing had spent the past few hours navigating the spartan, busyoffices, trying to submit his paperwork to get approval on his newestprojects excavating a far-off planet, barely even in Federationjurisdiction. First he’d needed a certain license, then stamps fromthree different departments signing off on the project, and submitpayment receipts to the primary treasury office, before finally oneof the clerks had told him that the entire thing was irrelevant if hecouldn’t get express approval from Director Hill.
DirectorPariston Hill, his least favorite person, who seemed to derive adisproportionate amount of pleasure from making Ging molder around inwaiting rooms for the entire day. Whose signature stood out on everylate tax form and spaceship parking infraction notice that seemed toshow up on Ging’s desk, no matter where he went, imploring anaudience with the Director to settle some nominal fine or matter oflittle consequence.
Then,like a tidal wave, the man himself swept into the room, robesglittering at his wrists and hem in an odd assortment of moodycolors.
“Ging!”The enthusiasm in his voice was matched only by the earnest sway ashe displayed the edge of the robe, swiveling from side to side toshow it off. “Do you like it? There’s a race in deep space that hasmore cones in their eyes than humans, and they made this for me! Notthat you can appreciate it, but just imagine it with three times thedepth of colors.” He swishes the long edge of the robe again.
“It’sridiculous, but I expect no less from you, Paris.” He can alreadyfeel a headache coming on.
“Ifyou don’t like it, you can help me out of it.” At Ging’s silence,Pariston laughs, something overly loud and just as orchestrated asthe rest of his persona, and claps Ging on the back, eyeing his dirtycoat with distaste. “Or we can talk about your new project.There’ll be time for other things later, hmm?”
Gingliked to think he was only here because of the paperwork, but as hefollowed Pariston into his office, he had to wonder why, after all this time, he still keptcoming back.