Room 407; Monday Evening [ 02/16 ].

[not_a_mused]

Cal Stephanides? In his room? On a Monday night?

...Yeah, there wasn't new Rumor Gal tonight and Cal actually didn't feel like watching a repeat. No, for once in his life, he was being seemingly productive, opting out on the mind rotting television to sit in front of his Underwood with a fedora on his head, an empty pipe hanging from his mouth,

Comments

[sonofmogh]

Worf appeared at the doorway.

"Why are you not in the common room?" he demanded to know.

[not_a_mused]

Cal didn't answer Worf immediately, not until he finished a sentence that ended something like a thousand stingers, like bullets, into the softness of his flesh. And once that was out of the way, he waved a dismissive left hand, remaining stooped over the typewriter.

"The Muse calls, Worf," he informed him. "Mustn't let the Muse down."

Besides, he couldn't think of a covert way to explain that tonight was a repeat.

[sonofmogh]

Worf frowned.

"Perhaps there is something on TV which would inspire you more?" he replied.

Yes. It was covert and in code. Klingons were good in manners of stealth. Even in conversation.

[not_a_mused]

Cal shook his head, shifting in his chair to face the door. "Same old stuff," Cal said. "Nothing new. I checked."