Early mornings and late nights are not things Laurence Dominic are particularly fond of
He drank a coke on his dark leather couch, hair dishevelled but still stiff from gel. His eyes reflected exhaustion, his wear reflected disarray. Work slacks and a wife beater. He hadn't bothered to do anything more then take his uncomfortable suit off.
His appearance was quite different from his surroundings. His apartment was medium sized- not small, but not large either, all his things arranged in a military like organization. Clean. Proper, in his eyes. Unlike his current state.
He was hungry, but much too tired to do anything about it. Laurence often found himself like this, worried about his health. With Echo, it happened more and more frequently. Nights starved but exhausted. He pushed the Active- the rogue Active, he believed- far out of his mind. His loneliness and hunger already depressed him enough. The fact he would likely die because of that damn Active and Adelle's lack of attentiveness to his word was enough to make him seeth.
His eyes struggled to stay open, watching the television news. He was only slightly interested. Mind blank. No, not blank. He was not an active.
Mind resting. Mind tired.
A light knock at his door made his eyes flutter open. His eyes had been closed longer than he had anticipated, as the program he had been watching had already faded into commercials, now beginning once again. He squinted, the moving picture and colors hurting his tired eyes, standing wobbly to open the door. He wasn't exhausted to the extreme, but he had nearly fallen into a deep sleep. He mentally thanked the visitor. He hadn't set the alarm for another early morning.
Laurence twisted the door handle, opening it up to the well rested face of his neighbor. She greeted him with a smile that he returned warmly. Jennifer was truly wonderful. He now remembered how he managed to stay alive- Jennifer and her wonderful cooking. Jennifer Richards was an extremely popular chef, with a restaurant centered about her recipes, and with the occasional tv job, always centered around cooking. She was the real deal, no food network hack at all.
Her brown hair hung well past her shoulders, and she dressed in evening wear. Although she was quite the successful adult, she dressed like a teenager to bed, with yorkie patterned pajamas and a fitting t-shirt. In her hands there was a large plate covered with aluminum foil.
"Jen, you really do save my stomach every time you come here." Lawrence said. Jennifer smiled a bit broader with the praise, brown eyes sparkling.
"I looked outside earlier and noticed your car wasn't here. Another late night, I'm guessing?"
Laurence beckoned her inside, half realising that he'd likely be laughed at by his other neighbors if they saw what he was wearing, and half feeling it was best to have a conversation not through a doorway.
He chuckled at her question tiredly. "You could say that."
Jen had set the plate on his black granite counter, stepping back to him. She was short, maybe 5'2" or 3", wide hipped and shoulders proportional. She looked up at him, seeing the bags under his eyes. "You really need to take a day off, sir. You look exhausted." The woman had always been brutally honest.
"Please, call me Laurence, I've had quite enough of 'sir' for a lifetime." He replied lightheartedly. "And I simply can't, not with one like mine. The place would turn to hell if I even thought about it."
Now, Jen smiled with a small laugh. "If you say so." She put a hand through her hair, getting it out of her face, then walking to the door. "I'll leave you to rest, then. I tried to not let the food get too cold. It sure isn't steaming anymore, but it won't give you brain freeze either."
"It's perfect however it is, Jen. Thank you so much." Laurence followed her to the door, seeing her off before closing the door and beginning to dig into the food she'd left.
Laurence moved into this apartment around half a year ago when he simply decided he needed a change. A strange occurance for a man like Laurence, of course. He had enough of change at work. But, it was slightly larger, and he felt more comfortable in the space. It also lacked nosy neighbors, he had found. People here had money, and with that money, they simply cared not for what happened about them. He knew them all as acquaintances, no one asked what he did. They knew he had money.
Jennifer moved in two months ago. He knew her too as an acquaintance, but not on the same level as the others. It was borderline friendship. He had met her walking out of the building one day, and promptly that night she had given a meal to him. It was around midnight, and he had just collapsed onto the couch when there was a knock at the door. A tentative, light knock. He wasn't sure if he had heard it right at first. But, upon opening the door he recognized the tiny, dark haired chef. She had a plate of food in her hands, and simply said "You can't be serious" when he replied that she didn't have to do that for him. She was too caring for her own good, he decided, but the exchange became very frequent. He didn't even have to call, when he stumbled in late it was assumed he had no time to eat. Laurence wasn't one to have a late night adventure to McDonalds.
Okay, maybe it was friendship. Maybe it was a lot of friendship. Laurence couldn't help it- he'd been without unprofessional company for so long. He yearned for it. He'd developed a liking for her, but not one of romance. Just one of friendship.
His mind immediately went into rest when he'd finished eating the baked chicken and cheesy broccoli. Jennifer had tuned herself to his likes, and sometimes, he wondered why anyone would ever care about him. Other than his mom and his dad, and his sister at times. He didn't think himself to be a very likeable person.
He changed into a pair of boxers with a yawn, laying heavily into his bed.
Topher was absolutely frazzled. Eyes open in a wide panic that was seen very often nowadays. Laurence despised the little cocky shit.
"I don't know where Boyd is. Handler-Man is MIA, and Echo's vitals are..." Topher bit his lip lightly, straightening out the charts."See, th-this chart? They're off it."
Dominic narrowed his eyes. "Boyd checked in with Central eight minutes ago. Apparently, a member of Echo's crew absconded with the target item and locked the rest of the team in the vault." He paused slightly. "Explains the change in vitals."
Topher seemed a bit annoyed with Dominic now, his eyes narrowing slightly too. "This is a special skills felony engagement. I wove more than one thread of unflappable into that tapestry." Seeming to be at ends, he slammed the charts down onto a table. "Okay? Echo could have an exploded belly bomb, and her heart rate shouldn't go past 65 beats a minute."
Laurence felt almost like laughing. "Maybe you made a mistake in the programming." It was the most likely cause. 'Boyd. He communicated with her recently.' He suddenly thought as he moved away from the thorn in his side to the screen, beginning to look into Echo's vitals.
Adelle stood stoically before suddenly jumping to action. "Something's wrong. I'll initiate contact."
Topher made a drawn out 'uhhhh..' "Yeah, Echo's not picking up her cell."
Adelle's eyes narrowed. "You reached out to an Active on an engagement without my say so?"
"It's the adrenaline!" He defended, "It makes me forget my protocols and q's.."
Laurence's eyes narrowed as he watched the vitals. "Echo's vitals spiked when she was talking to Boyd." He began playback. A screech emitted from the receiver, and Laurence's lip twitched. "What the hell was that?'
"Play it again." Adelle commanded.
Topher's eyes widened as he listened to it a second time. "Th- that's not...uh uh." He turned to Adelle. "That didn't happen." He animatedly pointed to the screen while explaining frantically,"How do I know that didn't happen? Because it can't happen!"
"Topher," Adelle replied softly. "What can't happen?"
Laurence turned and crossed his arms. "This goes nowhere good."
"I- I'm pretty sure...kinda positive, that something happened. The exact same thing just...without the chair.."
Laurence fumed quietly. Remote fucking wipe?
"You've stated that remote wipes weren't possible."
Topher went into rapid explanation mode as Laurence tried to meet eyes with Adelle. She seemed at a complete loss, staring at the floor.
"This is not my fault!"
Adelle sat down. "We'll parcel out the blame later. What happens now is the reputation of this company. We have an engagement to complete."
By the time Laurence stumbled into bed, it was early morning. He was absolutely exhausted, bags permanently set under his eyes. His head hit the pillow without any sort of grace, and he turned on his side, taking off his shirt with his eyes closed. His mind barely wandered with his exhaustion.
