[OTA] Work. Forever.

[karatofquality]

Oddly enough, Silas is having a hard time finding sleep tonight. He spent a good three hours in bed and achieved nothing but discovering that he has an impressive ability to find faces in the wallpaper and patterns in the ceiling, so he gave up and is now sitting at his desk in the King's office, which is still scattered with the things he's

Comments

[diemwnt]

It's not that he doesn't understand. He does. Every step up the ladder had been time shaved off the sleep schedule. Clearly, the jump from Ten to King would shave even more time away from actual rest.

But it's late, Silas.

Door-tap. Door-tap and silent, brow-arched reminder to check your watch.

[karatofquality]

Looking up at Cadogan's knock, he steals another glance at the clock on the wall -- God, he needs to redecorate in here. Sighing at the time, he rubs his eyes with a shake of his head. "I swear, I did try to sleep. Come in and tell me why you're still awake, my friend." And he's even in his pajamas; clearly, this is proof of attempted sleep, as is the scruff on his face and the mussed state of his hair. He pours tea for both himself and Cadogan, then sits back in his chair.

[diemwnt]

He does approve of the gesture made toward going to bed. That's something, at least. Cadogan hasn't even made it that far. But he'll slink in, tug out the habitual pack of cigarettes to offer, and sit a little heavily across from his King.

/Just the usual. Isn't an interesting story./

[karatofquality]

He snorts, taking a cigarette and reaching for the lighter off to the side of his desk. It's his turn to provide the fire, right? "At this hour? Any story is a good story. Try me." He'll even set paperwork aside and lean forward. "And for the record, if your Judging Eyebrows can order me to bed, my words can do the same for you." And he'd be doing that, once both men were too bored of being vertical to do anything but go be horizontal for a while.

[diemwnt]

It is. But Cadogan will be politely declining the light. Sophie had been wrinkling her nose about the cloud of smoke he'd been walking around in lately; attempts to cut back are being at least nominally made.

/You remember being a Ten. It wasn't actually so long ago, old man./

[karatofquality]

Another snort, paired with a roll of his eyes.

"You know," he huffed as he lit up his cigarette, "the fact that I'm older than you does not, in fact, make me old. I'm not even forty-two yet, you shit." Be surprised, Cadogan. Apparently it takes obscene hours of the night to make him swear.

[diemwnt]

It's surprising, yes. But it's the sort of surprising that startles out a soft snort and a flit of a smile. Maybe it's the obscene hour of the night more that makes everyone swear and smile and whatnot.

/That the kingly way to speak to your Tens?/

[karatofquality]

Look, he's even going to flip you the bird, Cadogan. He's being a terrible Catholic at the moment. There aren't enough cigarettes in the Deck to deal with being awake at this hour, considering when he woke up. Shaking his head, he scrubbed his hand across his bearded chin. "No, it's the friendly way to speak to my friends at ridiculous-o-clock in the morning."

[diemwnt]

And a two-fingered salute right back, Silas. It's good to speak in internationally recognized signs like this.

Although the hand is dropped fairly quickly to tap on the desk between them, faintly insistent.

/Go to bed, then. This can all wait until tomorrow./

[karatofquality]

"I've tried that sleep thing already, Cadogan. It isn't happening. If you'd like to be rid of me, you've got an office of your own." It isn't rough or cruel, just tired and dripping with affection. "Really though, you're familiar with putting everything off tot the side and trying to sleep sometimes. I've seen you cut out before me more than once." He's glad his friend is keeping him company right now, but he would rather his Ten get some rest.