hmph. he’s crabby. so toby throws on a frown of her own, even if she’s not put off.
❝ cheer up. i haven’t touched anything yet. ❞
actually, now that he had mentioned it, there were signs that looked like they might have been in place for that. maybe when she finally gets kicked out she’ll keep her eye out for one.
so she stands around a bit longer. her hands never leave her sides. but she takes a nice look around at his office, knowing her presence alone was pissing him off. then she focuses on the constant tap-tap-tapping of his keyboard, amazed that he’s typing so fast. now she doesn’t even remember why she was there in the first place.
hm. one foot steps forward. then another. and suddenly she’s made her way behind him, hovering over his shoulder and watching the screen with bemusement. yep, none of it made sense. and some of the code is too small for her to make out, so she has to lean in closer. irritatingly close.
❝ how do you read that? ❞
He repeats dully, not even giving a glance her way. Heavy lidded eyes are glued to the screen as his hands fly over the keyboard, never seeming to miss a beat. Slouched over as he is, Pritchard sits completely still, as though his company is a predator who will leave if they catch no movement. If this is his tactic it fails horribly. In fact, it seems to backfire as he soon feels her presence nearing.
Yes, she’s over his shoulder now, like a teacher supervising a kid in detention. Her query sets his jaw to clenching and his fingers stop in their tracks, as finally he swivels his head in her direction.
“By learning how to read code. How else?”
His tone is perhaps a touch too acidic for the situation, but she’s hovering and by God has she successfully gotten under his skin. With one last sneer, he returns to the glow of his monitor.
“Any more redundant questions? I do
love to be distracted from my work.”
And by work, of course, he means trying to sneak in a round or two of the latest FPS.
turnnoffyourmind
discoholicmusic
prguitarman
vaporwave
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
