"Working late again?" Zechs asked curiously with a quirked eyebrow as he peered into Wufei's office. "I thought the Commander gave you one of her famous talking-to's about this?"
Wufei has become accustomed to random people sticking their heads in his door to drop some news or ask about the progress of a certain job. It bothered him at first, but he quickly realized it was a necessity. Intel has to move fast in this line of work, and instant communication is pivotal in keeping the progress smooth and accelerated. Open-door policy was the first of many obstacles he has been forced to embrace.
This being the case, Wufei should not have jumped in his skin at this interruption. It must have been that deep, smooth voice. He had recognized it at the first syllable.
Wufei takes in the sight of Zechs Merquise filling his doorway. Black eyes are steady and assessing, but his heart is racing at this new development and he has to work hard to keep his face from showing only the mildest suspicion.
“Merquise…” he states easily, dry. Wufei glances at the time and then back at his visitor, wondering what else Zechs may have heard about his working habits and whether the Commander had scolded him about it.
Ignoring the taunt altogether, Wufei stands out of courtesy and invitation. “What are you doing here?”
That may have come out a bit more accusatory than he had planned.
“I believe that, short of the janitorial staff, you and I are the only ones left here,” Zechs replied easily, leaning against the door frame with the barest of smiles. “I wanted to make sure that you hadn’t fallen asleep or anything like that. Or, if you had, that you were at least comfortable and not drooling on reports.”
Eyeing the other, Zechs wondered about his reception. He wasn’t familiar with Wufei just yet and couldn’t get a good read on him; was he really as angry as he seemed? Zechs felt as though he would need to speak to the commander about this later. Not now, of course, because not only would she kill him for interrupting either late night television or sleep, but Zechs was a little preoccupied with someone far more interesting. Wufei’s once-compatriots were easy enough to figure out, but Wufei himself was a mystery. Who was he? What did he stand for? What did he do late at night when no one was around? All important questions.
Wufei’s face twists into something unpleasant, insulted; clearly not appreciating the notion that he’d ever manage to ‘drool’ on anything, especially classified reports let alone fall asleep while at work. He scowls in thought, wondering when he’d ever have given Zechs reason to think him that unprofessional.
“Hardly.” Wufei answers, closing his laptop with one hand and moving to straighten a folder full of papers, tucking it into his bag. His hands feel unsteady, and his mind is equally unorganized.
Zechs hadn’t answered his original question and Wufei didn’t think he could ask again without sounding more rude than his initial inquiry. His scowl deepens, not knowing where to go from here if he can’t get even that answered.
Fuck it. “What are you doing here?” he repeats, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way around his desk. Perhaps it was time he headed home.
But a very tall obstacle remains in his path. Wufei looks up at him, his expression hard and yet puzzled. “I didn’t realize you were .. around.” he adds lamely.
