Chapter Text
"This is ridiculous. We're genetically identical. How would this be of any use?"
You just give a half-hearted shrug, gesturing for his hands. "It is standard protocol for all new agents that join the Fatui-"
"New? I'm IL DOTTORE-"
"And you were, quite literally, born yesterday, Tau," you interrupt. "So, technically, I require a new set of fingerprints."
Dottore (Tau Build) scowls, fist tight at his side. Is this why the Omega Build ordered him to head to your office? Did he want another segment to kill you and be rid of such a ridiculous nuisance? After all, he'd heard the Omega muttering about how your 'protocols' got in the way of his research progress. If that is the case...
"Just hurry up already."
He bristles as his own voice sounds behind him. Another segment waits with an armful of papers, face taught with resignation.
"Ah, Segment Lambda," you greet. "Are those the monthly reports?"
Lambda grits his teeth as he hands the stack of papers to you. "Yes."
"And they have all been properly for-"
"Formatted, censored, signed, and NOT dated," Lambda repeats through his teeth. "Yes."
You hum and gently thumb through the forms. After a curt nod, you peel off your gloves and turn to your many cabinets, thumbing open a latch with yout eyes still glued to the folders. "Let me get you some blank forms. In the mean time, please educate your younger segment about our agreement."
Tau snorts, arms crossed as he shoots his elder an unimpressed glance. Lambda however, just pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters under his breath - something Liyuean, he thinks. He must be one of the ones who'd been trapped in Sal Terrae by another segment out of 'curiosity' for how he'd handle it.
"As per...the Omega's arrangement," Lambda forces out, "all subsequent segments are to be compliant with the demands and requests of the human resources manager."
"Which includes abiding by protocol, completing paperwork on time, and-" You rise, dumping a stack of blank forms in Lambda's waiting palms. "-submitting monthly progress reports on time."
"...One day," Lambda seethes, "I’ll bestow on you flesh and guts which will gladly spill by my hands."
You casually pat the top sheet. "Until that day comes, you have 84 reports left. Best of luck."
With that, Lambda departs, leaving Tau to stare with open surprise. He is Il Dottore, capable of building gods with his own two hands! What could you have offered his progenitor to allow him to agree to something so...humiliating?
"Ahem."
Tau's eyes snap towards your waiting palm, freshly dressed with another sterile glove. After a moment, he obligingly offers his hand. He almost expects you to tear it off, maybe crush a few metacarpals, just for wasting your time.
Instead, you just roll each digit on an ink pad, fill in the ten boxes, and add it to a folder filled with identical fingerprinted sheets.
"There." You nod, clearly satisfied as he retracts his hand. "You're free to go."
Tau stiffly looks down at his hand, then flexes his fingers. You've already gone back to your drawers. A dainty little hum escapes you as you sort through your tabs.
Perhaps he is thinking about this all wrong. Someone clearly willing to bargain with his progenitor is just as insane. And Tau might be young, but he knows better than to test that.
So he just nods and turns on his toes, leaving you to sort through your files in peace.