#petrova-problem

[unfxrgettable]

A package of Sour Skittles, and a package of Red Twizzlers is left on the desk of Ryland Grace. She grabbed it on instinct when she was out and needed to break some of the cash she had into smaller denominations. Now that everything was all said and done, she didn't know what to do with it.

The door to the lab was open, and she slipped in like a shadow. She left without being heard or seen. There's no note on the candies, and everything else left on the desk is left untouched, exactly as he left it.

It's better if he thinks someone else, like Carl, left it for him.

( @petrova-problem )

Grace had lost count of the days he was on Stratt's Vat. Once he was over the jetlag, the sleep deprivation began taking over. Coffee, energy drinks, sugar. He consumed anything so he could stay up longer and work on Project Hail Mary with all his fellow scientists. There was a desperation lingering in the air that spurred everybody on, willed every single person to put every ounce of energy into saving the world.

He couldn't deny when he was tired though. His thoughts were all over the place. His speech worsened as it failed to catch up with his messy thoughts. He was in the middle of talking to Dimitri when he simply stopped speaking halfway through a sentence. His fellow scientist ushered him away to take a break.

Plodding back to the lab he had used as a base, he planned on taking a quick nap to freshen up. He had turned the corner and opened the door when he noticed a few bags of candy on his desk. Sour Skittles? Twizzlers? Score.

He perked up just a little as he ripped opened up the bag of Twizzlers, slipping one out of the package and taking a bite gratefully. Relaxing his knees, he plopped upon the office chair and sighed as he chewed thoughtfully. He wondered who had put them there. It was pretty common knowledge that he had a sweet tooth, but his exact favourites? It was curious.

Sighing pensively, he finished off the Twizzler and crossed his arms to lean back in his chair, eyelids getting heavy. Whoever had left them on his desk - he was grateful for. It was hard, gruelling mental work they were doing and a pick-me-up like that? That was worth a thousand 'thank you's.

[laikalike]

(Let's see what what gets said.) @petrova-problem

 “eavesdrop”

"...lways dragging me somewhere, I'm trying-"

He's agitated, pacing, on the phone. In his tight little dormitory.

"-...No, no, it's not an excuse, you can ask any of my coworkers, any of my kids. I got kidnapped by the government. I'm not flaking out, I'm on a boat in the middle of the ocean. I don't even get wi-fi out here, I'm piggybacking off some guard's hotspot."

A little huff. He listens for a while. Pinches the bridge of his nose.

"When I get out, I'll cover drinks. Even though they're not paying me. No- no, they aren't. She gave me room and board and like... access to an infinite salad and soup vending machine. Soup. No- ugh- you're breaking up. Soup. Like the drink? The meal you drink? Hello?"

He smacks his phone against his palm, apparently frustrated as the connection cuts out.

[laikalike]

If you're still accepting, may I send, [ EYES ]?

"Yes, Dr. Grace?" ( @petrova-problem )

x - sender notices receiver looking at them - @petrova-problem

"agh- Sorry."

He turns his eyes to the floor. Six weeks now. Six weeks of being escorted to random spots by Stratt, just about every day. He doesn't really do weekends anymore, which has been awkward and has, in fact, wreaked hell on his sleep schedule. He can only imagine what horrors of substitutes his kids are coping with.

And for what? To be the science lapdog of a mysterious older woman? There are certainly people who'd kill for the opportunity, but he doesn't even get to go to starbucks anymore. Has to beg for it from one of the guards. Not that he minds never having to pay for anything ever again, but it'd be nice to just... talk to a barista.

He's got a panini, at least. Overpriced and kind of soggy, just how he likes it.

"Sorry. Just, y'know, we've been hanging out for so long now, and I think I just realized. I don't think I've ever seen you, uh... eat? You do do that, right?"

It's a stupid question, but hell, maybe there's some secret government brain chip that turns that off. He wouldn't know.

[unfxrgettable]

(And a second one for good measure. Cause this meme continues to be kinda interesting to look at. @petrova-problem)

[Tongue Tied Meme] sender orders receiver's favorite drink before they come back to the table. (+ reverse)

@petrova-problem

Grace and Stratt were existing in a practiced dance together. A tango. Strong, decisive, understanding. The days were blurring together upon the Gansu. Sure there was daytime and night time, but their sleep schedules were such that they might as well have existed in the very space they were studying thousands of miles above them.

Another day, another meeting. Catch ups, usually. Videos beamed in from all around the world, endless discussions, often arguments. It had all become so routine in a bid to save the sun, save the world.

Having finished a coffee only half an hour ago and feeling the shakes, the two coffees that were brought to the meeting table were not for him.

He placed them at the head of the table awaiting Stratt's arrival. She was punctual person, and there she was as expected opening the door already to set up the meeting with Egypt, eyes looking down at her tablet. When she looked up, she saw the coffees and took the first one to drink without question.

She had glanced over at Grace and he gave her a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of nod.

They were poised in position with angled arms, raised heads, waiting for the music to begin.

[amischiefofmuses]

(Welp. Muse decided to have a bit of fun and I figure something lighter and shorter would be a fun challenge, so... uh, here you go. XD) - @petrova-problem

In the conference room they were working in, they were both hard at work, coffees on the table. Dr. Ryland Grace had his coffee near him, and Eva had her two.

Eva Stratt looked up from her laptop at a very focused Dr. Grace, and a very small amused smile came to her lips. In his hands was a coffee, yet the one he had gotten stayed on the table, right where he left it. She hadn't finished her first one yet, but was knew she would need it before their second meeting in an hour. She spotted it immediately, but was curious how long it would take him to figure it out.

She continues to work, her gaze flicks from her work to him every now and again, just to see what he does. It's not a problem for her to get another one, but she'll move her coffee a bit farther away from him next time.

Random asks always welcomed || Accepting || @petrova-problem

Tapping at his own laptop, Grace is practically in his own world at he digs through data and simulations, brows scrunched behind his askew glasses. Occasional soft noises slip from him as he mutters to himself in thought, something he doesn't even realize he's doing, much like the small act of thievery that he's committed with Stratt's coffee.

It takes a solid fifteen minutes for him to notice, and it would've been longer had his knuckles not brushed what was meant to be his own drink. He pauses at the contact, if only because he nearly spills the damn thing, and then confusion washes over his features. If that's HIS coffee, then- Oh. Oh dangit. Looking between them, he glances up to Stratt to see if she's noticed, considering slipping his original untouched one closer to her side to replace the one he's been drinking before she realizes what's happened. He can't taste a difference, surely she wouldn't be able to, right? Unfortunately he makes direct eye contact with her when he looks up, then his gaze darts down again. Maybe she.. doesn't know? Maybe he can just- As casual as possible, he settles the one in his hand down, nibbling the inside of his lip before moving his arm as if just trying to stretch it out after being crunched up so long, scooting the coffee across the table. It's a good plan, for the two seconds it works, then it's suddenly it's tipping before he can stop it and actually spilling across the table. -- ❝Holy-!❞ He's up in a flash, using a swipe of his hand to push the liquid onto the floor before it can reach either of their respective laptops, a grimace on his face as he stands there looking at the mess. It's already decided he's not going to even look at Stratt right now, he doesn't want to acknowledge it. ❝I'll go grab some paper towels..❞

[saviorsofstars]

[Smash or Pass for Grace] Eva Stratt (petrova-problem)?

❝  wait  what?  smash  or—?  no.  no.  absolutely  not.  we're  ɴᴏᴛ  doing  this.  she's  my  boss.  you  can't  ask  me  that.  pass.  that's  not  my  answer  to  the  question,  I  mean,  uh.  pass  on-on  the  question.  pass  on  the  concept.  I'm  not  answering  that.  can  we  stop  talking  about  this  now?  ❞

SEND "SMASH OR PASS" FOR MY MUSE TO ANSWER HONESTLY ABOUT YOURS. NO LYING ALLOWED.

@ anon ( for @petrova-problem )

[laikalike]

❛   door .   hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse.

( @petrova-problem - // This feels like a threat. To who or why, idk. )

He-... He wasn't planning on going into the fishtanks, but he's learned better than to argue with Stratt. Change of course, then.

'Fishtank' was a term he'd wound up borrowing from his students. After some construction, the new advisory rooms were all made out of supposedly soundproof glass. One table in the center, three chairs, one outlet in each one. Extremely restrictive for both parties, and generally unused due to the fact that if you had an outburst in there, everyone in the hallway would be able to see. Hence the name.

There was only one glass wall in this one, but it faced a relatively high-traffic hallway. Same difference. Slightly larger table.

He sets his stack of papers on the hardwood.

"What, uh. What's the occasion, Stratt? I thought I was cleared for just... regular research duty today. I was gonna call my dad."

He wasn't, actually. He just told people that sometimes so he could have an hour or two in guaranteed isolation. He hadn't spoken to his parents since high school.

[amischiefofmuses]

 💬 + Ryland Grace please too? ( @petrova-problem )

Meme at You || Accepting || @petrova-problem

-- ❝I think I’ve had this exact nightmare before.❞ It's not like he's unused to giving more formal lectures, once upon a time it'd been something he was well acquainted with, but not only was that a past life he'd long left behind - it also usually came with a lot of preparation time and planning before standing before a crowd. Picking at the skin at the edges of his fingernails, he looks down at the messy notes he has spilled across the table in front of him and sighs. It feels like facing down a firing squad, maybe that would be preferable at this point. -- ❝Can't you just.. hand my notes over? They'll be able to make sense of them-❞ A glance down at the scrawls, he straightens the haphazard pile before plucking them up. ❝..Maybe if I typed them up?❞