Mandatory Vacation
Teller couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper “day off.” They’d closed the shop for a few days when they had their TV thing, but that didn’t really count. They may not have been working in the shop, but they were certainly busting their asses on set.
He wandered around his cramped little apartment for a few hours, trying to figure out what to do with himself. The only thing he really figured out during this time was that his apartment was ridiculously tiny. He supposed that he probably just never noticed, since he was hardly ever home. It very likely seemed bigger when he first moved to New York, and didn’t have anything. But now, filled with way too many shelves and various creatures, there was hardly room to breathe, it seemed like.
Maybe he should have breakfast. It was a great plan, until he got to the refrigerator and realised he hadn’t been home to cook breakfast in probably two years.
Heaving a sigh, he realised that if he wanted breakfast, he’d have to go out. For a moment, he almost considered trying to get to Milliways, but that sort of thing was always rather random. Besides, there was a diner just down the road that would probably be cheaper, anyway (not that he ever bothered to pay his tab, anyway).
He made his way down the narrow flight of stairs, where a group of kids were throwing a soccer ball around. It bounced off the wall, nearly hitting him in the head.
“Sorry, Teller!” one of the kids called out.
Teller lightly shrugged it off, tousling one of the other boys’ hair as he walked past. As soon as he neared the building’s front door, he could hear the kids start kicking the ball around again, and couldn’t help but laugh slightly. God help the lot of them if that guy from the fourth floor walked down those stairs any time soon.
When he got back to his apartment about an hour later, he found Penn in the corridor, kicking the ball around with the kids.
“Hey, there you are,” he said, kicking the ball the full length of the corridor to the other stairwell. “No one knew where you went.”
Teller shrugged as he led the way up the stairs to his apartment.
“Homer called last night,” Penn went on. “Our flight to San Francisco leaves at nine tonight.”
Teller stopped and looked up at Penn. Nine at night? On a six-hour flight?
“Yeah, I know,” Penn said. “But with the time difference, it’ll only be about midnight when we get in.”
Sighing, Teller unlocked his door, tossing his keys down on the piano as he went to sit down. It may only be midnight on the west coast, but Teller knew it would still feel like three in the damn morning. Penn could be a smart guy, but he could also be monumentally thick as well. He checked his watch and sighed. Might as well get up and go pack, really. As he got back to his feet, he paused slightly, looking up at Penn. After a moment, he held up one finger with a questioning look on his face.
“Two,” Penn corrected.
Rolling his eyes, Teller wandered into his bedroom to pack for a two-week mandatory vacation.