[x] - @eteriskromling
Time was such a fickle thing in Edge. Most days it fell to darkness fast—depending on the amount of pollution that filled the air in plumes of smog. The charts signified that people tend to use the most energy on a Thursday, fitting at least for their meetings. It was nearing the winter solstices and with it the blanket of darkness at an earlier rate. He pushed back the material of his sleeve finding his timepiece to mark late in the evening. Why didn’t his secretary tell him otherwise? Oh.. right—he recently fired another one just last week. He frowned at this predicament.
But she brought tea and set it down along his desk with a small rattle. This did not wake him but the movements of fingertips along his scalp did. He wasn’t use to such ‘endearing’ actions, no one dare touched him unless he told them they could. A lifting his hand as it combed through his hair, righting the loose strands that she had put out of place. His mouth was dry and his coffee cup empty. “No sugar, a drop of milk.” He enjoyed the ‘creaminess’ of the texture that milk provided.
He mulled over her statement. “What other day could you want?” Muscles that were stiff finally started to gain blood in the tissue again. A low groaned eased out of his mouth as he pushed the chair away from his desk, his body rigid from being in such position for so long. He truly hated falling asleep in places that weren’t of his master bedroom. It took a toll on his body. A shrugging of his shoulders and he shed his legendary white suit jacket, draping it over his chair and lifting his arms to force the blood to the sore regions—namely around his shoulders and arms.
