Sierra grimaced and rolled over in her bunk. Her stomach hurt like hell.
Not from an illness nor from some painful wound, rather it was the result of a lack of food.
She was starving, had missed dinner, Triela and Claes were not in their room, her roommate didn't keep stashes of snacks, and it was past curfew.
So she was stuck in the dormitory room, rolling over and over in bed, trying to figure a way to escape the growing hunger pains that were ensuing. She glanced over at her slumbering roommate, checking that she was sleeping before she began her drastic plan.
She gingerly got up, trying to avoid making the cedar floor creak and groan under her weight. She glided over the floor on her tip-toes and slipped into the hallway. She started down the hall, towards the stairs. She kept in the shadows, hugging the wall. She alertly listened for the night patrol, they'd been wandering the halls by now, making sure all the girls at the Social Welfare Agency were in their beds asleep.
Sierra was most defiantly not asleep.
She creped down past the laundry room, startling as one of the machines buzzed, signaling its load had been complete. Sierra hastily moved along, before the operator of such machines returned. She eventually made it to the stairs and started to make her descent down the rustic wooden steps. She cringed at every creak and moan they seemed to scream, as if they would break at any second.
Soon though she reached the front door, conveniently next to the stairway. Sierra poked her head out of the stairway and looked around the darkened first floor of the dorm. She noted that Mr. Ricci had fallen asleep in a chair, he was tonight's night guard. She smiled and made a hasty exit out of the dorm and into the icy cold outside.
She stealthily crossed the courtyard to the multi-use building, where the classrooms, meeting rooms, office and, most importantly, the cafeteria were located.
She snuck under the surveillance cameras and barrel rolled into brush to avoid being spotted. Several night guards were out patrolling the SWA's compound, keeping it free of any unwanted guests and making sure that the girls were not out and about late at night.
Sierra slipped in an auxiliary door, the one to the music room. She made her way through the dark room to the door, until she struck a pair of cymbals, knocking them down with a clatter. She threw herself down and hid behind a table, just before the door opened and the light was turned on.
"What the heck was that?"
Sierra paled, it was Mr. Croce, Jean to be exact. He stood in the doorway, glaring at the two metal pieces that lay on the floor.
"Looks like the cymbals fell down," said a second man dismissively.
Sierra paled even more, that was Marco. He was a little stiff, slightly harsh to his charge and at times down right despicable.
"I'll have to talk to Jose about putting those away better," Jean grumbled, flipping off the light, "Anyway let's keep going, we still need to dis-"
Whatever he said next was cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut. Sierra sighed, she crawled slowly to the door and listened, she heard nothing. There were footsteps, but they were retreating. She waited a few more seconds before opening the door.
Sticking her head into the hallway, she looked for anyone in the hall. Jean and Marco were walking down the hallway, chattering about some latest terrorist plot that had happened in Rome. Sierra slipped out and pattered down the hallway.
She stuck her head into the darkened cafeteria, nodding once she saw there were no occupants. She slowly made her way into the room, crawling low beside tables to obscure her from a passersby. She rolled from row to row as she made her way to the kitchen.
Once inside the kitchen she rubbed her hands together and smiled, her stomach punctuating the act with a rumble. Sierra set forth and opened up one of the four refrigerators, gazing at its contents. She pulled some cheese, some jelly, and a bottle of lemonade from the storage unit and then pulled a bit of bread and peanut butter from the pantry.
She set herself about making a sandwich, slathering the jelly and peanut butter on slices of bread. She nodded satisfied once she had made two sandwiches. She picked it up and took a bight, just as the light came on.
"What are ya doin', stór?" came a heavily accented Irish accent, "Everyone's lookin' for ya. I found ya here? So whatcha doin' lass?"
Sierra did nothing, but freeze. Sandwich in mouth. She slowly turned to face the man behind her, her eyes wide and the sandwich still held in her hands.
An amber eyed man was leaning on the kitchen doorway, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. He just so happened to be Sierra's handler at the Social Welfare Agency.
"I wa-f Hun-y an-" she said her mouth full.
"Swallow, lass," Donald chuckled, "then try again."
Sierra did so, "I was hungry and I couldn't sleep so I-"
The man smiled, "Went on a late night kitchen raid, huh?"
Sierra nodded, slightly abashed, ground her foot on the floor.
"Are you going to finish eating so I can take you back to the dorms?"
"Am I in trouble?" she asked eyes downturned.
"Trouble? No, hungry maybe, but that's about it." He smiled.
Sierra smiled and began to munch away at her sandwich, "Do you want the other one, sir?"
Donald shook his head, "I'm fine stór, eat up."
The girl nodded, scarfing down the remains of the sandwiches and downing it all with the lemonade.
"Done then?" Donald said as he straightened up, "Now let's take you back to your room shall we?"
Sierra nodded, "Thank you."
Donald smiled, "You're welcome stór. Though I think we'll need to run those excess calories you just took in. A nice ten kilometer run tomorrow should suffice."
Sierra paled as they walked down the hall.
Note to self; don't get caught by the guy who directs your physical exercise.
A/N: So a little drabble/short here introducing a fratello. Plan on posting more here soon. :P
R&R