Stratt flinched before she recognized the gait of the man who’d pushed her office door open. She didn’t bother raising her head from her crossed arms, though, it was too late. Beneath her chair, the subtle shifting of the aircraft carrier kept her nerves in a state of perpetual unease. She’d been awake for… she craned her neck to the side and checked her watch. 26 hours.
“It’s tea.” Carl said, plunking a thick terracotta mug down beside her head. “Doctor Grace had it mailed in, something about sleep loops and fake lights.” Drink it, he didn’t say. You need sleep. You’re working too hard. You’re not being reasonable, humans need sleep or they stop thinking straight.
Stratt didn’t let the flippant tone fool her. Carl had spent hours researching whatever it was in that mug, and he knew exactly what it would do to her. She sighed, propping herself up on her elbows. “Thank you, but I can’t. These require a timely response,” she waved at the printed pile of correspondence strewn across her desk. “And the last time I left Francois to-“
Carl leaned down and began calmly gathering the papers up. “You’re just as bad as he is. You know damn well you need sleep, drink the tea.”
Stratt hesitated, weighed the merits of giving Carl a demerit on a record nobody but her had the clearance to access, and then sighed. “Fine. I’ll make you entertain them if they send another auditor.”
“I’ll put them in the ocean.”
“On a leash!” Carl finished defensively. “I’ll just, yknow. Go fishing. It’d keep them busy.”
Despite herself, Stratt almost smiled, wrapping her hands around the mug and taking a sip. She wrinkled her nose and glanced down.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad.” Carl nodded solemnly.
“He drinks this?” She didn’t bother to clarify who. It’d become increasingly obvious over the past few months that, between the two of them, she would never really need to clarify who. They both knew.
Carl nodded. “Chugs it. Says it makes it taste better if you just get it over with.”
Stratt gave a considering look to the mug. Then she stood, looked Carl right in the eye, and threw the entire mug back in one long, deeply unpleasant gulp.
Carl’s eyebrow raised, but he said nothing. Instead, he gestured towards the door.
“Goodnight, Mr. Boyd.” Stratt nodded at him as she left. The door creaked loudly shut, enough to provide her plausible deniability for missing his reply.
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