Sometimes, Seri likes to drink water before she goes to bed.
On this particular evening, before she retired, she had forgotten to do just that and had managed to wake up. To her dismay, she had awoken with a dry throat and a pounding headache. With a sigh, the blonde woman padded out of her dorm and walked the darkened halls of the Scepter 4 compound.
As she neared the kitchens, she heard something from one of the rooms. Strange, she thought. Usually everyone would be sleeping in their beds. No one in their right mind would be up doing work so late at night!
She walked towards that particular room and found herself frowning in disbelief at what she saw. Amidst the barren desks and computers, there was one work station that was heaped with papers. A figure, hunched over and slumbering, sat in front of a computer, an eerie glow barely illuminating his features. Seri didn't have to look twice to identify who had been burning the midnight oil.
Cautiously, she approached her temperamental coworker.
"Fushimi…" She whispered. "Fushimi...please wake up!"
The young man in question stirred, but lapsed back into slumber. It was then that Seri realized that Scepter 4's Third in Command had overworked himself to the point where it could be considered detrimental to his health. For one thing, even under the harsh luminescence of the computer screen, the blonde could tell that there were well contoured shadows under his closed his eyes. His cheeks appeared to be gaunt and ghostly pale. Even his well gelled hair started to spike and spill from his usual hairdo to create an even messier sight.
"Ah, Fushimi," Seri sighed affectionately. Gently, she ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing the strands back so they wouldn't tickle his face. "What are we going to do with you?"
Despite her words, her eyes held an affectionate light within them.
After appraising his slumped figure, the blonde woman began to tidy up the cramped work space. Because of Fushimi's attention to detail, there was not a lot of work to be done; the papers were mostly organized and stacked in neat piles. Once Seri was sure that her subordinate's work was distributed neatly, she logged him out of the computer and prepared for the most taxing thing she'll undergo that night.
Once again, she appraised his sleeping figure and surmised that even though he was quite tall, he was still quite slim and likely not as well nourished as his colleagues. Mentally, she made a promise to talk to him in the morning about his dietary habits. Then, with practiced movements, Seri leaned down, grabbed Fushimi by the arms, and hefted him on her left shoulder.
She grunted at the weight, but adjusted.
As suspected, the brunet was not heavy.
With her precious cargo in tow, Seri began her slow trek to the men's dormitory.
It was quite easy to find his dorm room. After all, she was one of the few people who approved of the Captain's decision to allow the ex-Homra member to have his own dorm room. It had taken some time, but the Captain managed to make her see reason. As she entered, she took note of the sparse furnishings, of the Spartan-like landscape that greeted her eyes. Even in the dark, she could tell that the young man had barely any personal possessions to his name—no known hobbies to speak of.
It must be lonely, she thought to herself as she carefully peeled back the sheets to place Fushimi within the center of the lower bunk bed. As she did so, she could feel Fushimi exhale softly under his breath.
It sounded a lot like—
"Misaki?" It was too sleepy, too unguarded to be anything but the sleepy murmurings of a pleasant dream.
Seri chuckled at his mutterings before smoothing the sheets over her subordinate.
"Sweet dreams, Fushimi," the blonde whispered. Without any further thought, she smoothed his brow and left the dorm room.