"Why am I here again?" Jeremy groaned, as he rubbed his aching forehead and scribbled another notation on his piece of paper.
"Because misery loves company," Miles smirked, though he too was beginning to look cross-eyed and in serious need of a drink, or ten.
"Because Miles sucks at math," Bass rubbed at his tired eyes and placed another piece of paper on the growing stack.
"There's got to be someone more qualified to do this," Jeremy complained, eyeing the stack he still needed to go through, which he swore hasn't receded at all in the last hour.
"If you find someone, please, let us know," Miles drawled. "Goddammit, my hand is getting cramps."
"Suck it up, General," Bass told him.
"What about Neville?" Jeremy suggested. "He was an insurance adjuster, right? He knows how to deal with bureaucratic bullshit."
"Would you trust him to handle something like this?" Miles asked pointedly.
"Right," Jeremy said, resigned. "Taxes, man, they're the worst."
"It's a necessary evil," Bass said reasonably. "We can't function as a Republic without funding and for that we need-"
"Taxes, yeah, I get it," Jeremy answered. "You guys started out as Robin Hood- looking out for the little guy, all about helping people and shit- when did you become Prince John?"
"I'm not Prince John," Miles argued. "Bass can be Prince John, me? I'm King Richard The Lionheart, conquering and Crusading like a badass."
"I'm surprised you even know anything about Robin Hood, considering it's not a Stephen King book," Jeremy teased.
"He saw the Disney version with the animals," Bass explained. "And why am I Prince John? We're both in this together."
"Yeah, but you're the President, people think you call all the shots. Me? I'm the war hero General."
"I'm only the President, because you're terrible with people and have this amazing ability to alienate anyone you meet."
"Hey, I'm great with people," Miles objected.
Bass and Jeremy exchanged amused glances. "Sure, buddy, whatever you say," Bass grinned at him.
"This is never going to end," Jeremy whined, eyeing the paperwork. "50 years from now archaeologists will find out dead bodies in this room, hunched over this very desk."
"After everything we've been through, I'll be damned if we get defeated by paperwork," Miles said stubbornly.
Bass and Jeremy both nodded sagely, before Jeremy turned to Bass. "Whiskey break?"
"Oh God, yes," Bass got up and the two fled the room.
"Cowards," Miles muttered to himself. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the same sheet of paper, Miles finally gave up and went searching for Bass and Jeremy, secretly praying for an all out war with Georgia to save him from this fate worse than death.