(no subject)
There are mornings where Tom does him a favor, and once the girls start to fuss and hammer at the bars of their crib, Tom gets up, takes them to the compound for a bath and breakfast, and lets him sleep in. This morning it's even more than that, because as Mike stretches and turns, his arm curls around Neil's waist, and he murmurs something incoherent against the back of Neil's head.
Sleeping in is a luxury these days.
Too much of it is more than he can afford, however, so after a few precious minutes he drags himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, looking around bleary-eyed for his pants.
Half dressed, yawning, scratching absently at the scar on his side, he walks out into the main room of the house... and stops, staring and entirely uncomprehending at the thing on the floor.
It's been a long time since he's seen 2001: A Space Odyssey, but he can't help thinking of that now. By most standards, the TV isn't that big. By TV standards, by his standards, monolithic is really the only word for it. He feels a faint thread of something that might be awe. There's a couple more things next to it, but he doesn't have eyes for them. Only for the screen, wide and black and beautiful. It has to be from the future, or from what he would call the future. Televisions like this didn't exist in the world he'd left when he'd gone to the Realm.
"Shit," he breathes, still just standing there. In a second or two he'll work up the guts to go over and touch it. Once he's sure he's not dreaming.
Sleeping in is a luxury these days.
Too much of it is more than he can afford, however, so after a few precious minutes he drags himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, looking around bleary-eyed for his pants.
Half dressed, yawning, scratching absently at the scar on his side, he walks out into the main room of the house... and stops, staring and entirely uncomprehending at the thing on the floor.
It's been a long time since he's seen 2001: A Space Odyssey, but he can't help thinking of that now. By most standards, the TV isn't that big. By TV standards, by his standards, monolithic is really the only word for it. He feels a faint thread of something that might be awe. There's a couple more things next to it, but he doesn't have eyes for them. Only for the screen, wide and black and beautiful. It has to be from the future, or from what he would call the future. Televisions like this didn't exist in the world he'd left when he'd gone to the Realm.
"Shit," he breathes, still just standing there. In a second or two he'll work up the guts to go over and touch it. Once he's sure he's not dreaming.