Before: Coping

[sliceitwithwind]

Ansem's new apprentice has been part of the team for three weeks, two days, six hours, and fourteen minutes.

In that time he has managed to screw up four experiments, three desks, five computers, and Dilan's filing system.

Dilan is in the labs several hours before he's expecting anyone else to even be awake (the sun isn't due for another hour),

Comments

[cloakitwithplot]

Ienzo comes in at his usual punctual 'oh god it's what hour of the morning?' o'clock.

He hated the new apprentice from the minute he laid eyes on him. No, before that. For purely selfish reasons.

It's not quite so prestigious being the last of the five apprentices to Ansem when the bastard opens up another spot specifically for this other guy. In that sense, he's kind of glad he's a dick, because now Ienzo feels justified in hating him.

He pauses at the doorway to just kind of stare.

[sliceitwithwind]

Dilan is setting pens down on Aeleus' desk at exactly 5mm distance from each other. In an order which makes perfect sense if you know that the way the pens write corresponds exactly to the sound of a major C scale and he's got a chord going.

He doesn't even look up.

[cloakitwithplot]

Ienzo continues to stare.

There's a strange harmony and artistry about it all. The precise angles everything is at, down to mathematical perfection.

It's in that one brilliant moment of clarity that he realizes that all their joking about Dilan being OCD... was a lot closer to the truth than he'd actually previously suspected.

"Uh, Dilan?" he calls, finally.

[sliceitwithwind]

"Yeah?" Dilan asks, peeling his concentration from what he's doing after another second before moving to the next desk (Ienzo's) and starting the same positioning of pens, "You're up early, Ienzo."

[bashitwithearth]

"Tell me you slept," he says as he comes in, his own coffee warm in his hands.

"Please."

[sliceitwithwind]

"I slept." Dilan states promptly.

And falsely.

[bashitwithearth]

"Tell me you slept... without lying."

Someone is three seconds away from calling Braig and four seconds away from knocking his best friend out, putting him over one shoulder, and making him take a nap.

[sliceitwithwind]

"If we expand the time-frame sufficiently then yes." Dilan says, fussing with binders, "I slept."

Not that he's going to admit what sufficiently is.

[thinkitwithguns]

When Dilan didn't go home with him the previous night... Well, that happens all the time, and sometimes he's the one who stays late, so it's no big fucking deal.

When he woke up in the middle of the night for a piss and a snack... Still no big deal, 'cause it wasn't that late, and who the fuck knew? Maybe Dilan went to one of the girlfriends.

When he woke up again, and Dilan still wasn't home, and none of the girlfriends had seen him (Braig checked)... Then it was time to get his ass out of bed and go back to work, and turns out it's a good thing he did, too.

"Dude. You never came home last night," he says from just inside the door, leaning back against the frame.

[sliceitwithwind]

"Huh?" Dilan turns his head to look at Braig, cleaning items still in his hands. He'd have dark circles under his eyes if his skin was pale enough to show them, and they are bloodshot. "Oh. No. I haven't left yet."

[thinkitwithguns]

Braig frowns at him.

"Dude. Not. Fucking. Cool. Come on," he says. "Before I have to go in there and like, drag your ass out."

[sliceitwithwind]

"He trashed it again, Braig." Dilan says helplessly, "Moved all the tables around, fussed with my things, paged through reports he has no need to see and left them scattered - I need to fix it."