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Mar. 30th, 2012 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notinthebookWhen she wakes up, mouth fuzzy and head aching, and stumbles past the linen closet on her way to the shower, she can't help pausing as she grabs a towel.
She could say the words, grab a cup of coffee and something greasy at the bar, wait out this hangover, head to work once her head's cleared a little. It would be easy. No one would miss her.
She stares at the closed closet door, then heads to the bathroom without opening it again.
That all just means that she's a little surly when she gets to the office. Graham's as affable as ever, and if he notices the redness of her eyes or the way she digs into a breakfast burrito at her desk or the fact that she keeps refilling her coffee, he doesn't mention it.
He does tell her that she's on her own for lunch -- her turn to man the phonelines, but she waves him away -- after a day like yesterday, after a night like last night, she's more than happy to just hang out here and not think about a single damn thing.
She could say the words, grab a cup of coffee and something greasy at the bar, wait out this hangover, head to work once her head's cleared a little. It would be easy. No one would miss her.
She stares at the closed closet door, then heads to the bathroom without opening it again.
That all just means that she's a little surly when she gets to the office. Graham's as affable as ever, and if he notices the redness of her eyes or the way she digs into a breakfast burrito at her desk or the fact that she keeps refilling her coffee, he doesn't mention it.
He does tell her that she's on her own for lunch -- her turn to man the phonelines, but she waves him away -- after a day like yesterday, after a night like last night, she's more than happy to just hang out here and not think about a single damn thing.
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Date: 2012-04-02 04:39 pm (UTC)She gets up, too, thumbs slipping into her back pockets as she gives him a lopsided little smile.
"Thanks for the goodies. I'll try to save some for Graham."
She lifts her hand as he turns to go, watches as he wanders away, that ever-present umbrella swinging easily by his side, and for a second a thoughtful look crosses her face before she shakes her head and sits back down at her desk, bearclaw in one hand and file in the other.
She even saves the rest of the box for Graham.
(Not that she isn't tempted.)