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 Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 3:58 pm
It's often said: programmers keep odd hours.
This was not strictly true. Hayes kept quite normal hours, sometimes even for a person in his time zone. But things did become what could charitably be called erratic around a major deadline, of which it seemed there were more and more lately. On those occasions sleep was fleeting and the daily functions of life became things that happened while your code compiled.
On the plus side, nobody used the washers at four in the morning.
His system was running low on caffeine and the hum of the washers was practically.. soporific. It only took a chapter or two of Neuromancer for the blond to drift off in one of the chairs, legs stretched out beside a laundry basket and a battered book in his lap.
After a bit his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose.
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 7:02 pm
4am was somewhat of an unreasonable hour even for habitual early risers, but a trainee's schedule necessitated waking earlier than one might like if one wished to have any semblance of free time in the morning. As it stood, Aila had neglected to keep up with her casual uniforms and would have nothing to wear later in the evening if she did not see to her laundry before beginning her day. And so, with a slice of cinnamon-seasoned toast in her hand a basket full of red fabric and study materials tucked under her arm, she proceeded in her quiet march to the laundry room. As she approached, she noticed the dull hum of a washer in use and slowed her pace to a stealthy crawl, peeking around the door frame to see who was occupying the room at such an hour. The scene she witnessed struck her with a strong sense of deja vu: Within was a man, a book open in his lap, sleeping soundly in one of the chairs.
Aila was able to gain an understanding of how Leonard must have felt on discovering her in a similar position. It was vaguely awkward.
She entered as silently as she was able and loaded a machine, taking a seat in one of the available chairs and spreading a few printed documents on the state of affairs of a certain foreign country in her lap. She had hoped to read the reports in private, but she could make due with her sole company being fast asleep.
Fleur, meanwhile, had woken to find her human missing and had taken off running through the base in search of her. Following the scent of toast and the occasional crumbs littered on the floor brought her to the laundry room, and she skittered inside haphazardly, unable to bring herself to a clean stop in her half-asleep state. Aila stood suddenly and reached out a hand in a futile attempt to stop the collision before it happened, spilling some of her papers to the floor as she did so. It was, however, too late to intervene, and the Ivysaur crashed into the stranger's basket and its owner gracelessly.
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