Y'know, there's a chair over there for a reason. So you can sit in it.
[John kicks his booted feet up on his desk, leaning back in his reclining chair stolen from some other department with a bigger budget. While his posture says, "I don't give a fuck," what he's really saying is "Relax."
Finn and Chyler are two peas in a pod. Serious. Always on. Probably because they both grew up too hard, too fast. In survival mode. John didn't have the same experience. Whether that makes him more or less qualified to lead them remains to be seen. He'd like to think it grants him a different perspective, that allows him to see strengths, and weaknesses, they might not know exist, but he could also be full of shit.
John has no doubt in his mind that both of them, despite their younger years, have suffered as much loss as he has, and ceased being children a long time ago, if they were ever really children at all.
He hopes they can be, someday. Whenever, and however, that would look like. Even if it means picking up stupid hobbies, or riding a skateboard to work while going grey. Whatever makes them happy.
John only really started to enjoy life in his late thirties. Blooming late is better than never.]
Slip. That's a good call-sign. I've had a few, in my day. Most of them embarrassing. Where I'm from, if it doesn't make you cringe? It isn't a solid call-sign.
You losing that doohickey? That's a 'butter fingers', right there. Butters for short, probably. Or maybe buttfinger. Because it's the air force. We're mature, like that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-16 12:35 am (UTC)[John kicks his booted feet up on his desk, leaning back in his reclining chair stolen from some other department with a bigger budget. While his posture says, "I don't give a fuck," what he's really saying is "Relax."
Finn and Chyler are two peas in a pod. Serious. Always on. Probably because they both grew up too hard, too fast. In survival mode. John didn't have the same experience. Whether that makes him more or less qualified to lead them remains to be seen. He'd like to think it grants him a different perspective, that allows him to see strengths, and weaknesses, they might not know exist, but he could also be full of shit.
John has no doubt in his mind that both of them, despite their younger years, have suffered as much loss as he has, and ceased being children a long time ago, if they were ever really children at all.
He hopes they can be, someday. Whenever, and however, that would look like. Even if it means picking up stupid hobbies, or riding a skateboard to work while going grey. Whatever makes them happy.
John only really started to enjoy life in his late thirties. Blooming late is better than never.]
Slip. That's a good call-sign. I've had a few, in my day. Most of them embarrassing. Where I'm from, if it doesn't make you cringe? It isn't a solid call-sign.
You losing that doohickey? That's a 'butter fingers', right there. Butters for short, probably. Or maybe buttfinger. Because it's the air force. We're mature, like that.