closed rp for Entanglement: Hawke and Anders
((continued the night of this thread. NSFW.))
He thinks about it some more.
He subjects it to analysis.
He stares at his foodbricks for a while, then he gazes into the empty plate like a scrying dish. He tries going home. His housemates are giddy and engaged in a boisterous argument about contemporary musical forms. He goes to the White Room in half-hopes of meditating on a solution; he endures the White Room for about five minutes before discomfort drives him out.
Anders has purposely avoided ever finding out where, exactly, Hawke lives on the station. He's made a point of this, to prevent precisely what he's about to do. But he knows there's information on the computer system, he's been familiarizing himself with it (for the sake of the revolution), and he has an idea he can access some kind of listing. It offends his sensibilities, and all the habits he learned for survival as an apostate, but there you have it: most of the station residents are listed, right there for anyone to find.
She has one of the little not-a-broom-closet rooms, down a corridor with fewer signs of traffic than the main thoroughfares. There's an oblong button inset beside the door, and Anders has become familiar with the functions of such things, so he presses it. A short, sharp buzz within.
He wonders whether she'll open it, and if so, whether she'll close it immediately upon seeing who's waiting for her.
He thinks about it some more.
He subjects it to analysis.
He stares at his foodbricks for a while, then he gazes into the empty plate like a scrying dish. He tries going home. His housemates are giddy and engaged in a boisterous argument about contemporary musical forms. He goes to the White Room in half-hopes of meditating on a solution; he endures the White Room for about five minutes before discomfort drives him out.
Anders has purposely avoided ever finding out where, exactly, Hawke lives on the station. He's made a point of this, to prevent precisely what he's about to do. But he knows there's information on the computer system, he's been familiarizing himself with it (for the sake of the revolution), and he has an idea he can access some kind of listing. It offends his sensibilities, and all the habits he learned for survival as an apostate, but there you have it: most of the station residents are listed, right there for anyone to find.
She has one of the little not-a-broom-closet rooms, down a corridor with fewer signs of traffic than the main thoroughfares. There's an oblong button inset beside the door, and Anders has become familiar with the functions of such things, so he presses it. A short, sharp buzz within.
He wonders whether she'll open it, and if so, whether she'll close it immediately upon seeing who's waiting for her.