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The next morning you wake up bright and early at 0723 hours by sheer force of habit. Your right leg is tingling and numb because of Arizona's kneecap pressing down in the wrong spot, which does nothing to dampen the familiar morning agony in your upper right thigh. You need the head, your head wound is itching like mad and Arizona's drooling on your chest, still fast asleep and not inclined to move.
In short, things are almost back to the warm, familiar embrace of SNAFU. You snag your cell phone off the side table and dial up Goto's cellular. It rings several times, which lets you know instantly that something's off - you can't recall Goto ever taking longer than three rings to answer.
At last the line picks up. “Ah, hello?” It's a sweet, feminine voice you don't recognize.
“BREAKFAST IN BED TEITOKU~”
That one, on the other hand, you *do.*
“I take it Admiral Goto is unavailable,” you reply flatly.
“He's... out,” the voice replies. From the background you hear scraping and thumping sounds, and Kongou's bright voice promising Goto that 'love is going to find him.'
“... out, huh?”
“The window,” the new voice confirms under her breath. “Can I take a message?”
“You're his secretary, right?”
“Yes, sir!” she replies cheerfully. “You can count on me!”
“In that case, could you come to the base infirmary, room 22A? I need some help from somebody that won't spread rumors.”
“Ah, I'm sorry, Admiral Goto is going to need my help cleaning up after Kongou-”
You know exactly why she's dissembling, but you really do need discreet help. Preferably with a crowbar.
>Let her off the hook and call Hate. If you know him, he'll be too busy squinting away a hangover to rib you much over it, and besides, you've got two arrows in your quiver - won't hurt to let him have one.
>You really don't have time for this cloak-and-wazikashi bullshit - nobody cares that you're Ho~te~ru, get over here already!
>Other?
