Claire felt a loose strand of hair falling towards her eyes, and carefully tossed her head trying to move it without disturbing the work occupying both hands on the bench before her.
It would be two and a half minutes before she could spare a moment to fix her slipping hair tie.
She felt a presence behind her. It had to be the Official, he was the only one who would stand there so long without saying anything, but she couldn't break off to talk to him. Perhaps he'd stay quiet until she finished this step.
"Progress report." Not a question, not a request.
She kept her eyes on her work as she replied irritably, "Now is not a good time." As an afterthought she added, "Sir."
Much to her relief, he seemed to accept that answer, staying silent until she had finished. Finally turning to face him, she pulled out the slipping scrunchie and gathered her hair away from her face as she acknowledged him.
"I've got five minutes."
"Well?"
"The counteragent from Mark's sample should be done in another half hour. As I feared, it won't be enough for a full dose, but I'm hoping it will be enough to ward off stage five madness until the full batch I just started is completed."
She gulped several swallows from a can of cola. It was bloody hot in the lab, with two bunsen burners and a hot plate going.
"And Fawkes?" The Official had no patience for human needs like food and drink, at least not in his employees.
"He's had three Addisonian crises so far, but the corticosteriods are pulling him out of them and warding off shock. He should survive long enough." She hated to sound so cold, but she had no time for sugar-coating and the Official had no patience for it. "Evaluating the gland will have to wait until Darien is more stable and more cooperative."
He actually seemed to hesitate before asking the next question. "Do you still need Eberts?" She wondered what budgetary crisis could possibly be important enough to even consider pulling her newfound assistant away.
"I'll need him at least until the mini-batch of counteragent is completed, after that it will depend on how Darien reacts to it and how much care he needs from me."
The Official looked disappointed. She could almost imagine she saw a bit of worry breaking through his iron control, too. She wondered cynically if it was worry for Darien, or worry over how long he'd have to do without his right hand man.
But the Official only grunted. "Keep me posted," he ordered.
Glancing at the clock, she saw that he'd left her almost two minutes. How generous. She grabbed some yogurt from the fridge and shoved a couple spoonfuls into her mouth as she race-walked to Lab Three, where Eberts was working with equipment there hadn't been room for in the main lab. She'd need the fruits of his labors in another seventeen and a half minutes.
It would be two and a half minutes before she could spare a moment to fix her slipping hair tie.
She felt a presence behind her. It had to be the Official, he was the only one who would stand there so long without saying anything, but she couldn't break off to talk to him. Perhaps he'd stay quiet until she finished this step.
"Progress report." Not a question, not a request.
She kept her eyes on her work as she replied irritably, "Now is not a good time." As an afterthought she added, "Sir."
Much to her relief, he seemed to accept that answer, staying silent until she had finished. Finally turning to face him, she pulled out the slipping scrunchie and gathered her hair away from her face as she acknowledged him.
"I've got five minutes."
"Well?"
"The counteragent from Mark's sample should be done in another half hour. As I feared, it won't be enough for a full dose, but I'm hoping it will be enough to ward off stage five madness until the full batch I just started is completed."
She gulped several swallows from a can of cola. It was bloody hot in the lab, with two bunsen burners and a hot plate going.
"And Fawkes?" The Official had no patience for human needs like food and drink, at least not in his employees.
"He's had three Addisonian crises so far, but the corticosteriods are pulling him out of them and warding off shock. He should survive long enough." She hated to sound so cold, but she had no time for sugar-coating and the Official had no patience for it. "Evaluating the gland will have to wait until Darien is more stable and more cooperative."
He actually seemed to hesitate before asking the next question. "Do you still need Eberts?" She wondered what budgetary crisis could possibly be important enough to even consider pulling her newfound assistant away.
"I'll need him at least until the mini-batch of counteragent is completed, after that it will depend on how Darien reacts to it and how much care he needs from me."
The Official looked disappointed. She could almost imagine she saw a bit of worry breaking through his iron control, too. She wondered cynically if it was worry for Darien, or worry over how long he'd have to do without his right hand man.
But the Official only grunted. "Keep me posted," he ordered.
Glancing at the clock, she saw that he'd left her almost two minutes. How generous. She grabbed some yogurt from the fridge and shoved a couple spoonfuls into her mouth as she race-walked to Lab Three, where Eberts was working with equipment there hadn't been room for in the main lab. She'd need the fruits of his labors in another seventeen and a half minutes.