Stoatorian Guard Open Barracks/Imperial Condos Hurrah For The Stoaties!

Never mind the drizzle over Bouillabaisse, in the mind of one of its newest intended citizens it was a jolly sunny afternoon. The time had come for a fresh start, a chance to prove one’s mettle. Dressed as smartly and practically as he could manage with his limited wardrobe, a dress shirt (with only a few holes in) above tight leggings, the lanky hare marched up to what he hoped was the right office to approach at the Ministry of War. He ignored the distant cursing of beggars he had accidentally trampled in his hurry to get here before the day had worn on too long and rapped at the door.

“I say, chaps! Won’t you let a fellow in? Reporting for duty, sahs! Never seen a finer recruit than me, you’ll hardly believe your peepers, wot wot! Hallooooo?”
 
The door creaked open, and a rather bemused sable ferret in the uniform of the Stoatorian Guard, helmet tucked under one arm and halberd slung across her back, looked out on the hare. "Well, dis is new," she remarked, her voice colored by a Hanshiman accent. "I heared dat de woodlanders live here now, but you are de first I see come to serve de Imperium." She gave a small, nonchalant shrug. "Come on in," she invited, stepping back a pace. "I'm sure dere is a job for you we can find."
 
Delivering a salute to his forehead with such voracity he near concussed himself, Dorian straightened up before the ferret.

"Capital, marm! I look forward to showing just how much we woodlanders are worth our salt! Much, much obliged."

He strode in with only a slight trip over his footpaws, beaming and full of curiosity.
 
Eirene shook her head at the hare's enthusiasm, following after him. There was an unattended desk in the center of the room, to which the ferret circled, looking about. "Normally dere is a beast here," she noted, "but I tink she goed for cough-ee. Is okay, I will help." She started to look through the forms filed in neat cubbies behind the desk, trying to find the right one. "What job you come for?" She inquired as she searched. "Army, navy, guard, marines?"
 
When his eyes had finished darting about the room, Dorian focused his attention quickly upon the desk. He was customarily a hare of action but there was something about the neatness of organisation that he found extremely satisfying. That, and he really wanted to know what was in every drawer and box. An inkwell was as wonderful a surprise as any.

'Cough-ee'! Oh, he absolutely had to try that sometime. The harbour was brimming with things that were new to him.

"Thank you from the very bottom of my heart, marm. Wherever I am most needed, haha! Guard sounds splendid although dashing about aboard a ship would also be jolly super! I don't suppose there's some sort of healthy rotation?"
 
Eirene pulled out a form, then put it back, apparently finding it not to be the correct one. "Well," she mused, "I hear dat de marines serve on bot' ship and land. Dey go on landing parties, tings like dat. Maybe dat is best of bot' worlds. I know dere is shore time still for navy beasts, and marines too. My daughter is in de navy now, and when de ship returns - soon, I hope - she can visit for a while." She found the form she'd been looking for, and passed it across the desk. "Dere we go," she remarked. "Dere is a checkbox for which branch you apply. I tink you can check more dan one if you want de Ministry to decide." She lowered her voice before adding, "I tink as well dat serving in de Guard while in Harbor, and elsewhere while not, is also okay. When I last lived in de Harbor, dat was acceptable."
 
"Spiffing, wot wot!"

Dorian scraped the form swiftly toward him. He reached for the nearest quill and dipped it hastily in its inkwell, accidentally dribbling a few spots across the desk. The clumsy hare hadn't yet noticed, his attention fixed upon the checklist.

"Hmm. Hmmmmm. Oh, yes, that'll do nicely. H-yere, and h-yere!"

A strike was put in both the Stoatorian Guard box and the Navy.

He then noticed the mess he had made. "Cripes, my apologies, marm! Allow me to clean it at once!" His paws floundered over the ink, marking his pads, before he remembered he had a kerchief in his pocket. One paw dug it out whilst the other cupped his own face and smeared ink on his cheek.
 
Eirene's eyes widened as the hare inadvertently made a mess, and seemed to be on the verge of making an even greater one. "Why don't we just leave it be," she suggested, trying to wave him off, "and let someone else deal wit' it later? Is probably best if we were never here."
 
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