fjordicswagger | 74 Godiva Street, Monday Morning

Someone was banging on Tamsin's door.

Violently banging on it. On a Monday morning.

No one could blame her if she killed that guy, right?

Unfortunately, ignoring him for fifteen minutes straight didn't seem to work, so eventually she tipped out of bed (well... mattress on the floor), kicked over an old beer bottle, and stumbled towards the stairs. She put on her most professional glower as she ripped open the door and fixed her eyes on...

...the Mayor's assistant.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

The assistant smiled brightly. Too brightly. Kind of like a deer in headlights. She held up a large folder. "Can we talk?" she said.

"It's eight AM on a Monday morning," Tamsin muttered, "No, we can't talk, but you're going to anyway."

"Soooo," the assistant said, yoinking up that smile a few more watts in case it'd help. "The Mayor's gone."

... Tamsin squinted at her. "What?" she said. Beat. "Well, file a missing person's at the station, I'm going back to bed."

She shut her door. Except now there was a foot lodged in it. "Oh, for the love of crap, what?"

"We know where he's gone," the assistant said. "Back to Pawnee. He left a note. It said 'I didn't sign up for this. Please learn democracy.' I know it was his because he didn't sign it and he wrote it on a log with a knife." Beat. "I haven't been in the office for several weeks, I was on vacation, it might have been there for a while."

Tamsin rubbed at her face. "I'm still failing to see what this has got to do with me, bright eyes," she said. "Can I go sleep off my hangover now?"

Bright Eyes - she was going to keep calling the girl that from now on in - hopped. She actually hopped. "I ran a quick informal poll," she said, "It turns out that 75% of the island's Enn Pee Cee population already believes you're an authority figure on the island, in charge of... well, there were a lot of write-ins."

Tamsin groaned. "Will you please just get to the point?"

"Mayor Swanson's last wish was for us to practice democracy," Bright Eyes said excitedly. "I thought the poll would do!"

"You're... not really from this era, are you?" Tamsin muttered. "...Wait, what?"

"You're the Mayor!" Bright Eyes squealed.

Tamsin stared. "No, I'm not."

"I already filed the paperwork."

"You what?"

"Happy holidays!" Bright Eyes said, shoved the folder at Tamsin, and ran.

There was some more staring. This time, after her. The news took a couple of seconds to sink in, you see, and-- "OH, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

The Morrigan was never hearing about this.

[[ establishy. ]]