on procrastination.

[staircases]

[ He's waiting. Again. ]

Or you could just finish the app.

Comments

[widowing]

[ this is the song that doesn't end, yes it goes on and on my friend... ]

Perhaps proper motivation is required.

[staircases]

[ He lifts his eyebrows at that. ]

Not quite sure I want to know what qualifies as 'proper motivation' for someone like you.

[ Which is, for the record, complete bullshit. ]

[widowing]

[ there's the barest hint of a smile on her lips, making her appear all the more dangerous. ]

It's classified information, anyway.

[staircases]

Ah. A woman with security clearance. [ Oh, he knows all about women like you, Ms. Romanov. You're like one of those big shiny red buttons that come with the label 'do not touch'. ] Why am I not surprised.

[widowing]

Among other things.

[ doesn't stop most from wanting to push anyway, but you seem like one who handles everything with pristine, white gloves, trying to keep them as clean as possible. ]

Am I that obvious? I must be getting rusty after nearly ten months.

[staircases]

Let's just say I'm used to keeping an eye out. [ He prefers thinking of it as 'reluctant to make an unnecessary mess'. ]

Ten months? [ He looks impressed. In a not-so-vaguely condescending way. ] Impressive.

[widowing]

[ the condescension doesn't bother her as much as it probably should (if at all), but her responding expression is coolly irate anyway. ]

More like necessary.