"You gon get Plasma'd."
Cheap bourbon for ten dollars seemed to be on his desk often now. In with the fights between the wife and certain other carriers, Yuubari and Akashi blowing through a year's ar-and-dee budget on a single incursion of simple PT Imps the mundane staff could've handled, and the petty cash fund basically empty due to the base having been sucked into the US F/GO release, Lorenzo wasn't a very happy man lately. Well, he was happy, but little problems piled onto big ones which added to some stress with other factors that his usual mixed drink after work became a little more than that. Bismarck doesn't like it and neither does Haruna, but Zuikaku at least understood.
And why she is in charge of his money and only bought him cheap bourbon or beer. So when there was a boom followed by the wail of ambulances, he'd signed off his computer, given himself an early dismissal from duties, and out came the Evan Williams green bottle.
"It seems your daughter, Inazuma, went plasma." Ooyodo explain, reading from her Toughpad.
"Where?" The portly admiral asked, using a jigger measure some of the cheap bourbon, which he dumped into a glass of sweet tea and stirred. Zuikaku sat her own desk, her own head on the blotter, just as annoyed.
"Nothing is damaged, though it seems Iowa, Saratoga were badly hurt."
"You know, I laughed when Terminal Lance posted that age comic. I now understand. I truly, truly understand. En-jay-pee Inazuma and see to it that Iowa and Saratoga are in prime condition by next event."
"Already done. Inazuma is helping refill the hole she crea-" Ooyodo stopped as Lorenzo held up a hand. He put another measure into his tea and drank it all. Then rather than redo the mixture, dumped the ice from the now empty glass back into the pitcher, and gave himself a few fingers of the stuff.