After a time, Derek found an address that he couldn't eliminate. He skipped to the next one.
The Afterdark realized that he'd eventually have to leave his office hidey-hole to get coffee. If The Fixer's sleeping habits had been predictable, he would have waited until she was asleep before getting his hot beverage. Unfortunately, he thought to himself, he'd have to talk to her.
He really didn't want to have to talk to her, so he put it off and kept deleting and eliminating until he was so bored he wanted to go kill someone. If Nell hadn't been his guest, he probably would have gone out and done just that to the first person he came across.
The giant opened the door and peeked out. His heart beat quickly. Human contact was a strange thing to be anxious about, although he wasn't really the human contact that bothered him (and, he thought to himself, it wasn't like he hadn't had plenty of 'human contact' in his life, and that was usually quite enjoyable). It bothered him that he felt empathy towards The Fixer. He felt bad when she felt bad, good when she felt good. As a young man he'd felt this way toward Rebecca Armstrong, Platform. Empathy was a symptom of the more powerful disease called affection. It freaked The Afterdark out.
Nell was still at the table. She stood on her chair so the giant table was just up to her thighs, and had spread out the folders again. One of her hands was on her chin thoughtfully, and she'd gone through the effort to put her wild, greasy, copper hair back and out of her bright eyes. Her jumpsuit was unzipped and removed down to her waist and the sleeves were tied around her middle.
In the light, her eyes shimmered in contrast with the swollen skin around them. She bit her lip with teeth that were slightly crooked, but not enough so to warrant braces.
The Afterdark realized that he'd eventually have to leave his office hidey-hole to get coffee. If The Fixer's sleeping habits had been predictable, he would have waited until she was asleep before getting his hot beverage. Unfortunately, he thought to himself, he'd have to talk to her.
He really didn't want to have to talk to her, so he put it off and kept deleting and eliminating until he was so bored he wanted to go kill someone. If Nell hadn't been his guest, he probably would have gone out and done just that to the first person he came across.
The giant opened the door and peeked out. His heart beat quickly. Human contact was a strange thing to be anxious about, although he wasn't really the human contact that bothered him (and, he thought to himself, it wasn't like he hadn't had plenty of 'human contact' in his life, and that was usually quite enjoyable). It bothered him that he felt empathy towards The Fixer. He felt bad when she felt bad, good when she felt good. As a young man he'd felt this way toward Rebecca Armstrong, Platform. Empathy was a symptom of the more powerful disease called affection. It freaked The Afterdark out.
Nell was still at the table. She stood on her chair so the giant table was just up to her thighs, and had spread out the folders again. One of her hands was on her chin thoughtfully, and she'd gone through the effort to put her wild, greasy, copper hair back and out of her bright eyes. Her jumpsuit was unzipped and removed down to her waist and the sleeves were tied around her middle.
In the light, her eyes shimmered in contrast with the swollen skin around them. She bit her lip with teeth that were slightly crooked, but not enough so to warrant braces.
