Another quiet morning in the Shoebox. Zero contact. All systems fully operational. Running low on fresh fruit; expedited cargo drop would be appreciated. Maintain that Specialist Puckerman’s presence at this location continues to be extraneous. Please advise re: potential relocation date. Perhaps agent could depart with cargo drop?
Puck grins to himself when he hears footsteps, very faintly, at the end of the hall, and he quickly closes the file he’s reading. The internal memos of S.H.I.E.L.D. in 1956 are fascinating, but they’ll keep. He slides the file into the drawer—in the proper place, no matter what Agent Hummel, please says—and quickly heads towards the cracked door, ready to time his emergence perfectly with Agent Hummel’s approach.
Footsteps almost even with Puck’s position, he grabs the handle of the door, swinging it just wide enough for him to walk through, and he grins widely. “’Morning, Kurt,” he says cheerfully.
“I hope you at least put them back where they belong this time,” Kurt says with a loud huff. “I found ‘Cavender, Nigella’ stuck in the ‘N’ section last week.”
“You know I have trouble with alphabetization,” Puck says, still grinning almost innocently at Kurt while he internally congratulates himself on that particular purposeful misplacement. “Sometimes I lose track of time and have to hurry so I keep to my self-imposed maintenance schedule, you know.”
“How wonderful for you,” Kurt says, turning away from Puck and heading in the direction of the break room, with its top-of-the-line Keurig and coffee pods that never seem to run out. Puck suspects that they’re the real reason for the regular ‘supply’ drops.
“You’re still welcome to join me,” Puck offers, like he does every day. “Even if you don’t want to lift, you could run with me. Or vice versa.”
“No thank you.” Kurt’s reply is brisk, and he doesn’t turn back around or stop walking. “I prefer the schedule I’ve kept for the last three years.”
“Do you even remember how to clean your piece?” Puck asks. “I know you don’t carry it, so asking if you can fire it is probably too much.”
“I’m perfectly proficient at firearms. Top marks,” Kurt calls back before rounding the corner.
“Yeah, maybe in 2008!” Puck yells after him, shaking his head. Kurt doesn’t respond, and Puck shakes his head, tsking loudly just in case Kurt is still listening. He really does have a planned workout, along with various other tasks to keep up his training, but the bullshit about what time it starts is just that—bullshit. Puck takes off his t-shirt as he enters the workout area, deciding to lift before he runs. Maybe after doing those, he’ll do some target practice, timing it just right to coincide with Agent Hummel’s afternoon ‘work period’.
[Agent K. Hummel, S.H.I.E.L.D. Site 237C, Report 118B, 2000 Hours]
Cargo drop received. Manifest signed off and yellow copy included with outgoing packages. Noted lack of transfer orders for Specialist Puckerman; subsequent drop, perhaps? Zero contact. All systems fully operational. Slight lag in video feed from quadrant 7 determined to be squirrel-related. Damage repaired and video feed up and running smoothly. The same cannot be said for the squirrel.