[In progress] Chado
WHO: Neji (eightcircles and Inara elegantthestars
WHAT: Early morning tea.
WHEN: Early morning (three- or four-ish), day 2 or 3
WHERE: The police station, I presume
WARNINGS: None as of yet.
It was entirely too early to be awake--or too late, depending on how you looked at it. Neji had awoken at obscenely early hours before, but he had never yet spent THIS much time on his feet. Well over twenty hours of pure consciousness, and four of those hours spent in combat or terror. Being an assistant instructor in the family's martial arts styles, he spent a lot of his time working his muscles until they ached. He was usually in bed by ten, and asleep almost before he'd walked into his room.
It was right around fuckoff o'clock when his body decided that it hated him. The exhaustion cramps hit. Even as he tensed and relaxed his muscles, forcing them to warm up, the cramps stayed.
So he did what he did everytime his body complained about too much activity and not quite enough sleep: he shuffled around the kitchen like a zombie until he found his favourite tea. This time, of course, it wasn't his kitchen, it was a tiny kitchenette that barely had a coffeepot and a stale box of donuts (eurgh, those things were disgusting, even fresh. How anybody could put that much sugar into their bodies at one time truly mystified him) and definitely DID NOT have any green tea. But in a nook above the refrigerator, he found a box of Earl Grey.
Not exactly his cuppa, but it would do.
He poured hot water into an aging, much-stained kettle and set it on the stove.
WHAT: Early morning tea.
WHEN: Early morning (three- or four-ish), day 2 or 3
WHERE: The police station, I presume
WARNINGS: None as of yet.
It was entirely too early to be awake--or too late, depending on how you looked at it. Neji had awoken at obscenely early hours before, but he had never yet spent THIS much time on his feet. Well over twenty hours of pure consciousness, and four of those hours spent in combat or terror. Being an assistant instructor in the family's martial arts styles, he spent a lot of his time working his muscles until they ached. He was usually in bed by ten, and asleep almost before he'd walked into his room.
It was right around fuckoff o'clock when his body decided that it hated him. The exhaustion cramps hit. Even as he tensed and relaxed his muscles, forcing them to warm up, the cramps stayed.
So he did what he did everytime his body complained about too much activity and not quite enough sleep: he shuffled around the kitchen like a zombie until he found his favourite tea. This time, of course, it wasn't his kitchen, it was a tiny kitchenette that barely had a coffeepot and a stale box of donuts (eurgh, those things were disgusting, even fresh. How anybody could put that much sugar into their bodies at one time truly mystified him) and definitely DID NOT have any green tea. But in a nook above the refrigerator, he found a box of Earl Grey.
Not exactly his cuppa, but it would do.
He poured hot water into an aging, much-stained kettle and set it on the stove.