Life Without Laughter

Nine - Marcus - Impulses

Marcus wasn't happy with his boss at all.

For one, he had to miss out on a darts game which he had been slightly anticipated for, even buying a Brazilian shirt whilst on holiday in support, and now his once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of actually showing the emotion called happiness once they dominate Canada. Until next year, of course. Marcus turned off the sports radio in his car so he could rewatch it when he gets back and predict how many points Brazil will be able to garner.

His job as a banker wasn't enjoyable, on any scale. The building had a stench mixed between sweat and urine and old money notes, had abysmal toilets and the staff were all arch nemeses to one another. Once lunch began at the bank, it got real Game Of Thrones very quickly. Luckily, Marcus had always brought along a packed lunch, similar to his days as a young and foolish teenager. But, with the surprise announcement from the boss, he had no time to prepare his sandwiches.

If Marcus was capable of emitting an expression, it'd be a sour frown, with droplets of saliva likely glazing the wheel at the thought of lunch at that moment. Marcus didn't necessarily have an addiction, he'd call it more of a quirk.

He eventually parked beside some knocked over bins with an unconscious man atop them, reeking of alcohol. Marcus whizzed by a local pub who were clearly as excited as he was for the darts game, until he realised that it was actually a game of bingo that was making the drunkards ecstatic. Marcus looked forward to the bank, First Nation, who took up the corner of the street, even with a small statue commemorating the founder of the company. Marcus hoped nobody would take selfies with the sculpture, as he hated it, like everything else remotely related to his workplace.

He entered with a rough nod of approval from the guard, and had to flash his ID tag to everyone who may have forgotten his unique face, because they didn't care for him enough to remember what he looks like when he disappears. Marcus goes to slouch at his desk, an action he's done numerous times and they've somehow even more monotonous with each passing day. Thankfully, his pessimistic hand-wavy boss Gerald spiced it up when Marcus caught him searching through his desk. Marcus cleared his throat, quickly getting Gerald by surprise, looking at him expectantly.

Gerald stood up, clutching his folder of documents. "Mister Callaghan, sorry about the short notice, but it's supposedly urgent." He explained, gesturing to Marcus to follow him from behind. "We've had several calls from a miss Delilah B. Benson, matches the description of your own fiancé, and didn't contact you directly because you take too long to read them in time."

Marcus felt slightly hurt that Delilah didn't have much trust in her boyfriend, but could understand where she was coming from, his phone was awful at receiving notifications in an adequate amount of time. The pair entered an office which was polluted by clear smoke and the smell of some raunchy activities in recent nights, but Marcus made no comment. Gerald took the only seat in the room, implying that Marcus wouldn't be staying long, and waited till his employee was ready to play back the message.

"Hey, Mister Durran? It's Delilah, Marcus' fiancé. Erm, I was just calling about an emergency which just happened and it's—it's prey important he comes too. Can you please tell him about this message as soon as you can? OK, OK, b-bye." Played the phone, with slight static pouring through at the end. Marcus seemed deep in thought, then mused. "What kind of emergency?" He asked, gaining a shrug from Gerald.

Marcus realised what all this fiasco was about and approached the door, his hand already grasping the handle when Gerald beckoned to him. Marcus turned to face him, displeased. Whenever Marcus or another co-worker had to leave work early, the boss would always set up a deal where if they do some of his work for him, he won't fire them for leaving the building. Gerald shoved a file into Marcus's hands and simply stated "Do that for me and I won's act like I heard anything.".

Marcus was once again left with no choice but to comply, and returned to his desk, now with a fresh cup of coffee courtesy of Gerald, Marcus eagerly began his work. Or, alternatively speaking, his boss' work.