John tips his head in sheepish acknowledgment when Kat correctly surmises the purpose of their little scheme. It's not exactly an impressive showing, having gone from 'largely empty' to 'packed with boxes' over the course of the past hour. At least it isn't in shambles or anything; there's obviously a lot of work to be done, but nothing to suggest they've made a botch of things.
"The, er... X-Files thing," John starts, not exactly loving the comparison, but passingly familiar enough with the reference to understand it, "is... well, I was going to say it was more pressing, but that was before this," he says, indicating the absurd number of boxes with a wave of one hand. They really do need to at least rearrange the boxes. Presuming they aren't already in some sort of order, which he hardly dares to hope.
He looks over at Martin at the offer of tea, eyebrows raised. Martin's tone and general manner are both a bit fussy, but maybe making tea would help calm him down. "Presuming we haven't been cut off from the tea station by all this lot, then yes, please," he says mildly, before turning to the nearest box and tearing off the tape. Might as well see what they're working with.
The good news is that the box is neatly packed with a stack of files, and the files are clearly labeled. The bad news is that they aren't alphabetized, and if there's any other organizational system at work, it isn't immediately discernible -- no numbering or anything. John sighs out a soft, "Christ," then pulls out a file. It's simply labeled 'MELANIE,' no surname, and he opens it to find a few pages of... well, they're so heavily redacted it's hard to say what they were meant to be originally. Forms of some kind, as far as he can tell. But there's something else behind the paper, thicker and uneven and oddly weighty against the hand supporting the file, and John flips the papers aside to find...
John frowns, his eyebrows drawing together, and sets the open file down on top of its fellows so he can lift out what appears to be a small, brown rabbit pelt. It isn't quite symmetrical; one side looks rather ragged, but aside from that, it looks like something you might find in a children's museum exhibit, one of the areas where patrons are encouraged to touch things. "... Huh," he says, at a loss.
no subject
"The, er... X-Files thing," John starts, not exactly loving the comparison, but passingly familiar enough with the reference to understand it, "is... well, I was going to say it was more pressing, but that was before this," he says, indicating the absurd number of boxes with a wave of one hand. They really do need to at least rearrange the boxes. Presuming they aren't already in some sort of order, which he hardly dares to hope.
He looks over at Martin at the offer of tea, eyebrows raised. Martin's tone and general manner are both a bit fussy, but maybe making tea would help calm him down. "Presuming we haven't been cut off from the tea station by all this lot, then yes, please," he says mildly, before turning to the nearest box and tearing off the tape. Might as well see what they're working with.
The good news is that the box is neatly packed with a stack of files, and the files are clearly labeled. The bad news is that they aren't alphabetized, and if there's any other organizational system at work, it isn't immediately discernible -- no numbering or anything. John sighs out a soft, "Christ," then pulls out a file. It's simply labeled 'MELANIE,' no surname, and he opens it to find a few pages of... well, they're so heavily redacted it's hard to say what they were meant to be originally. Forms of some kind, as far as he can tell. But there's something else behind the paper, thicker and uneven and oddly weighty against the hand supporting the file, and John flips the papers aside to find...
John frowns, his eyebrows drawing together, and sets the open file down on top of its fellows so he can lift out what appears to be a small, brown rabbit pelt. It isn't quite symmetrical; one side looks rather ragged, but aside from that, it looks like something you might find in a children's museum exhibit, one of the areas where patrons are encouraged to touch things. "... Huh," he says, at a loss.