you’re like the thing that makes the universe explode
“Kid, the only people who don’t know that you like Suvi are people who haven’t met you and Suvi.”
Sara Ryder hasn’t slept in a while. It makes for strange, albeit honest, conversations. ~1200 words, heavily featuring Drack.
“Scott has this theory,” Sara says, “about doorways.”
Drack looks at her sideways, a little like she’s lost her mind. Maybe she has - she’s been awake since yesterday, possibly the day before. She’s forgotten. It all blends together in a haze of code, coffee, and pie anyway.
“Yeah?” he says, poking at the tray of biscuits he’s just pulled out of the oven. Seemingly unsatisfied with the poke, he slides the tray back in, grumbling about shoddy Initiative tech.
Sara brings her legs up onto the bench and crosses her ankles. “You know, between me and Gil, we could fix the temperature control on that.”
“Then I wouldn’t get to complain,” he says, setting the timer for another five minutes.
She shrugs - she can’t fault him for that logic - and takes a slow sip of her coffee. She’s probably long hit maximum saturation of caffeine in her bloodstream, but decaf tastes funny. “Open offer.”
He turns around and leans back against the counter. “So. Doorways.”
“Doorways,” she says. “Scott has a theory that our brains have evolved to subconsciously associate doorways with change. So if you’re stuck on something, just leave the room. Tech, email, crappy mood, whatever. Your brain automatically switches gears when you leave the room.”
“Huh,” Drack grunts. “That also why you guys walk into places and ask everyone else why you showed up?”
“Probably.” She takes another sip. “Anyway. He read an article when we were kids, and never shut up about it. I’d be banging my head against a problem, and he’d just ‘leave the room, Sara,’” she lilts her voice upward in a mockery of his deep baritone. “Never fucking worked.”
Drack crosses his arms. “And doorways are what’s keeping you up?”
“Oh,” Sara says, “no.” She glances at the door: still shut. “I have a crush on Suvi,” she says, as evenly and plainly as if she were mentioning the rain on Havarl. Because she does. A big one. And that, far more than fixing her twitchy assault turret, is what’s kept her awake since yesterday, possibly the day before.
He snorts. “No kidding.”