Light Jar || Ale&Atticus
voulez-vousatticus:
Atticus, as a general rule, tried to avoid guards at any and all costs. He’s learned his lesson through trial and error and fear… and careful analysis of schedules. That fear and unease kept him a lot more tidy than he had ever been in his entire life - that and his roommates took over most of the space and he valued his small corner of space and privacy, having hung up a spare sheet around the bottom bunk he had so that it felt like his own bunker or coffin. Recent discovery, after his phone fell between the bed and the wall, caused him to find broken pieces of glass, and after fishing around under his bed for twenty minutes, the remains of an old gift were broken on the carpet.
So he sought out its old owner, and thanked the school that they had the decency to write out a directory of where everyone lived. Elevators weren’t for “his kind” though, as someone pointed out - he assumed that meant slave - so he heaved himself up the stairs until he found that weird, quiet man, and knocked on the door, with broken pieces in a plastic bag.
“Hello, Ale? I hope…” he muttered, suddenly concerned that he remembered the wrong name. “My name’s Atticus, I’m that sleeping guy you had to wake up in the lounge a couple times? I had a question.” @alebolivarx
Ale kept a tight schedule.
He had not always been this way. When he was young, and foolish, he’d kept no schedule at all, gone wherever his feet and his curiosity carried him. Now, though, after centuries of rigid rules, it felt more natural to live by a carefully regimented plan, and so live by it he did. He ate alone in his suite, he performed his duties, and he kept to a strict regimen in the gym, and it was not terribly common for things to interrupt that schedule.
The knock at his door interrupted it.
Eyebrows raised, he set down the plate he’d been carefully washing and padded over to answer it, barefoot and dressed in the drab, practical clothes that he tended towards when not dressed for work. His eyebrows only raised further when he saw who’d come knocking, and his lips twitched slightly as the young slave reminded him of his name, though Ale had not forgotten it. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t sure Atticus was supposed to be here unescorted, but--well, Ale was not on duty, and while he was a stickler for rules, he did not care quite enough to enforce them when he was not working.
“Yes, I remember you, mocoso,” he said lightly, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “This is nice change, very awake. Much to see in the world with open eyes, no? What is your question?”
