eiattu_pride | (no subject)

(no subject)

Rial's working.

Not like that's a big surprise, because honesty, when is he not? The work keeps coming.

So he doesn't even look up when he hears Plourr, just sets a datapad and stylus aside.

"I'm going to need your help on this."

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Stopped in her tracks in the middle of her epic quest (read: exhausted shuffle from her bed to their chambers' kitchen) for caf and/or food, Plourr shoots Rial an incredulous look, but doesn't bother with the 'do you know what time it is?" question, because he does. He always does.

Still half-asleep, blankets trailing behind her, she thuds into the chair across from him. "What?"

"Help."

Tosses her the datapad.

She snatches the datapad out of the air about a second before it would have hit her in the neck. She sets it on the table and leans over it, peering down and beginning to scroll up. "What is it?" Heaven forbid she actually read it.

"Charter of rights."

Vaguely, head still buried in his own datapad.

"Read it."

Plourr's hand? Meet Plourr's eyes. She groans. "Why?"

"Because I've read every every other kriffing thing."

Tersely.

Stung, she picks up the datapad and begins skimming its contents. "I told you," she says, "to go to bed three hours ago. You're going to read yourself into a coma if you're not careful."

"This has to get done."

Patience fast wearing thin, "And it'd help if you helped a little."

She stares at him in stunned incredulity, mouth hanging open for a second, because she is helping, she's more than fucking helping--

In the interest of not shouting, Plourr removes herself and the datapad to the kitchen, where she sets to work reading and making caf. Of course, the caf-making happens with a touch more cabinet-slamming than is probably necessary. This is one princess who doesn't function well on two hours' sleep.

When she's gone, he takes a deep breath. Pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a long, deep breath.

Control.

He needs control. It's not Plourr's fault, she's been good.

She sets the caf to brewing, complete with more loud slamming of objects, and then sits on the countertop, curling her feet up under herself and hunching bad-temperedly over the datapad. The reading material isn't helping the mood much, either.

Yeah, she's not coming out of the kitchen anytime soon.

There's a long pause.

"Look - I'm sorry."

It's muffled, but most likely audible.

Something (thankfully, not a glass something) clatters against the doorjamb in response, missing its target of the open door.

He gets up, rubbing the small of his back and wanders over to the open door.

"Plourr-"

She doesn't look up, free hand curled around another cup. "Shut up. I'm reading."

He almost says something.

Sighs, moves into the kitchen. "Is there another cup?"

She points wordlessly at the one that she'd thrown, still rolling on the tiles by the door.

He sighs.

Picks it up, and moves to sit next to her, ignoring the lack of caf.

"Plourr, I'm sorry."

She keeps reading for another stubborn, proud moment. But really, what's the point? He's apologizing. They're both tired. She looks over at him. "It's okay," she says quietly.

"I was out of line."

Rubs the bridge of his nose, "I'm tired, you're tired - look, you go back to bed. This can wait."

She shakes her head, glancing back at the 'pad again. "I was getting up to help anyway, and there's perfectly good caf brewing now. Can't let that go to waste." She shoots him a look. "You, though, should go sleep. I've had a few hours; I'm fine. There are still--" She checks the chrono on the wall. "Four hours yet til this meeting. I can finish it on my own."

"Four hours?"

Oh, gods no.

"Not sleeping. This is useless. Where's the caf?"

She points. "It'll be another minute or so before it's ready. And you're going to pass out on me during the meeting if you don't sleep, Rial. Really, four hours is plenty of time."

"If you say so."

Yawns and stretches.

"Do you even know the material?"

She shoots him a cutting look and recites, " 'It is the law of the land that the Priamsta are the superior in every way of the commoners. The lords Priamsta hold right of life, right of pass, right of death'-- I would offer to go on, but I think I might throw up." She shakes her head, leaning over and turning off the caf. "We have to get that changed."

"We will, no worries."

Eyes the datapad.

"Hopefully."

She pours herself a mug of caf. "We will," she says, eyes flinty, because there's no other option. This can't go on for her people. "I don't give a damn what the Priamsta try to do to stop it."

"Short of asassination."

Vaguely.

A moment's slightly unsettled pause. "Well, yes, that would be a problem."

"I - oh. Sorry."

Long, uncomfortable pause.

She shrugs, taking a sip of caf, and says with some forced bravado, "I'd like to see them try."

"Yeah."

Looks away.

"You miss them, don't you?"

She drops her eyes, watches her caf swirl. "I was too young to know them well," she says quietly.

"Doesn't mean you can't miss them."

Softly.

She shrugs wordlessly, pulling her knees up and glancing out the window, where the sun is beginning to peer over the horizon.

"Let's both take a break."

Stands, stretches.

"This stuff is pretty dull."

Still curled up on the counter, she asks, "What happened to Mr. We've Only Got Four Hours?"

"He stepped aside for Mr. I've Not Slept In Way Too Long."

Dryly.

She smiles faintly into her caf and waves a hand at him. "Go on. I'll finish looking over the human rights material."

"Okay."

Wanders in the direction of the door.

"Um - there's the next fourth of that on my desk."

She nods, resigned, leaning back against the windowsill and picking up the datapad. "Alright."

"Wake me in an hour."

She tips two fingers to her forehead in a highly informal salute.

And he wanders back to the couch in the main room.

That's not exactly going to bed, but it's close enough.

When he's gone, Plourr stares at the datapad a moment, then goes back to reading its mind-numbingly dull, confusing legal documents.

She just wants to fly.

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