Room 318, Friday Afternoon
Another day, another vast barrage of email messages. Peter had just closed off his teleconference with the people back on Haiti and now he was looking forward to a productive afternoon of going through his remaining emails. In the dorms. No way in hell was he doing any of his work while sitting anywhere that bounced, let alone in proximity of people who might spy on what he was doing over his shoulder.
He was humming softly to himself as he worked. He wasn't sure what - had to be something he'd picked up while a radio played in his periphery. Music was a waste of time, anyway. Didn't know why his subconscious wasted precious brain power on it.
He leaned back in his seat and played his keyboard like a piano. Yep. Just another day's work.
[[ post open, door cracked ]]
He was humming softly to himself as he worked. He wasn't sure what - had to be something he'd picked up while a radio played in his periphery. Music was a waste of time, anyway. Didn't know why his subconscious wasted precious brain power on it.
He leaned back in his seat and played his keyboard like a piano. Yep. Just another day's work.
[[ post open, door cracked ]]