Competence test [Elliot, + invite]

As usual the tribe of nervous, busy employees parted akin to the Red Sea when he walked through the main work floor of the decrepit station, populated by officers and cubicle lackeys alike, with the odd contractor amongst the group. The chief didn't smile at anyone, much less look at anyone, which kept the room strangely calm—nothing was out of the ordinary. He was stoic as usual, travel mug in hand as he made a bee line for his office.

Office... right. It was makeshift at the moment, a spare room thankfully not collapsed by the bombing. Aluminum filing cabinets stood half-open with random documents poking out of the manila folders haphazardly shoved into the drawers. It irked him, and their disarray in accompaniment with the clutter atop his desk warranted an annoyed grumble, a swear under his breath. No matter how he organized the contents of the desk before leaving every evening, the next morning without fail it would be covered in chaos. That was the last thing he needed to worry about, as the whole of metropolitan Chicago was inundated with it.

Despite the awful mess, Elliot discovered that a neon green post-it had been stuck on the top of whatever bullshit paperwork had been tossed onto the table. He peeled it off and read the brief note, then sighed somewhat. His turn to check in with IT again. He could only hope that an inkling of progress had been made since they last notified him of their status—a dim prognosis that agitated his usual sullen mood.

—————

What was left of the IT department was nothing much to look at, but at least their reconstruction budget had been put to good use on a technology upgrade.

The familiar sight of the blond woman clacking away on her keyboard gave him a sense of normality in spite of all the physical and professional wreckage. He stopped at her desk, loomed over her shoulder.

"Keller, tell me what's going on. Have you guys made any useful progress?"

Elliot raised his eyebrows and straightened his shoulders at her reaction, stunned himself at just how chipper and bright the young woman suddenly acted. Everyone around here was acting skittish of late. He squinted slightly at the letters, numbers and symbols all rolling down the page. Little of it made sense to him, but the fact stood clear that every number, space, or bracket made up the heartbeat of security and efficiency for the force—so much of which they sorely needed at the present time.

With a terse nod, he put his palms on the desk, supporting his upper body with his arms while he leaned in for a closer look at the monitor. He nodded with some semblance of understanding, or an attempt thereof. He pursed his lips thoughtfully for a few moments, listening intently, his brow knit, in order to pick up on every detail he possibly could. His gaze drifted from the computer, his eyes not really focused on anything as he listened. He could not say that he wasn't impressed with the answer to his question, though it raised as much inquiry as it settled. He turned to Andrea, tilted his head.

"That's exactly what I needed to hear," he said, and righted himself to a full standing position once again, this time taking a good sweeping look around the room. "That's good. Am I right in guessing that we'll be doing the same thing here on the department campus?" This was where he became dubious. "Whatever system we had in place beforehand obviously didn't work. We're vulnerable. One measly fucking stick of dynamite and the roof caves in. We're not flying blind, are we?" He crossed his arms and gave her a testing look.