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),
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"Please."
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And falsely.
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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.
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Not that he's going to admit what sufficiently is.
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Very very firm. Quiet, peaceful, but firm.
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"And Ansem treats him like he's gold, and I know that he doesn't care for how Braig and I live our life outside of here but we're good scientists, we're some of the best or we wouldn't be here and it's hard having to turn everything over and know it's going to get trashed before Ansem ever sees it."
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"I know," he says, calm. He's playing the human Quaalude right now and he knows it.
"He's a dick," he continues.
"But you need your sleep. You won't be a good scientist without that."
It's just concern. His own anger is thick and black and hot and it grows beneath the surface, far down where no one knows where to find it. There's a reason they say it's always the quiet ones.
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"I know," he said, just as settled. Dilan was under stress, so no wonder this would happen.
"You can head home and take a nap, come in with Braig later in the morning."
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"But he's going to mess it all up again."
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"But hopefully he'll get the point.
"Or I'll hit him."
And that was quite the thing for Aeleus to say, but when he saw his friends so upset, the protective tendencies he had came out in full force.
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"He doesn't bother me. You all being bothered. That bothers me."
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