[ The nice thing about his healing factor - although not if you ask Tim - is that, when it kicks on, it forces him to sleep better, deeper and longer. All that energy has to come from somewhere, and so Tim’s racked out almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. He’s not unwakeable, but it would take a lot more noise than Kon’s investigation makes to rouse him.
He gets almost six hours before he starts to drift out of dreamland. There’s a brief attempt to deny he’s awake, closing his eyes tighter against the afternoon sun, but it’s closely followed with a stretch and a gold old eye rub. Maybe Kon left the coffee pot on. Tim will drink 8 hour old coffee.
On that hopeful thought, Tim opens his eyes and gets an eyeful of angry Kon. He’s not instantly awake but instantly alert. His fuzzy brain lands on something’s wrong, so he’s rapidly disentangling himself from the blankets to get up. ]
What’s wrong? It’s not another invasion?
[ His foot kicks some papers off the bed, and Tim watches them fall. He recognizes lines and bolded text of the form. It hadn’t been on the bed. It had been mixed into a hundred pages of photocopies, mostly dealing with the engineering of teleportation technology. Kon wouldn’t have read it.
Tim turns back to Kon, with a guarded expression. He doesn’t seem remotely sheepish - if he reads anything, it’s defiant (and sleep-rumpled). Okay. Kon found the immigration forms for the meta country. How doesn’t matter, so he doesn’t ask. Doesn’t say anything, just waiting on the response.
There will be no monologuing, only direct responses. If Kon hasn’t put together what Tim’s been up to, Tim won’t do it for him. ]
no subject
He gets almost six hours before he starts to drift out of dreamland. There’s a brief attempt to deny he’s awake, closing his eyes tighter against the afternoon sun, but it’s closely followed with a stretch and a gold old eye rub. Maybe Kon left the coffee pot on. Tim will drink 8 hour old coffee.
On that hopeful thought, Tim opens his eyes and gets an eyeful of angry Kon. He’s not instantly awake but instantly alert. His fuzzy brain lands on something’s wrong, so he’s rapidly disentangling himself from the blankets to get up. ]
What’s wrong? It’s not another invasion?
[ His foot kicks some papers off the bed, and Tim watches them fall. He recognizes lines and bolded text of the form. It hadn’t been on the bed. It had been mixed into a hundred pages of photocopies, mostly dealing with the engineering of teleportation technology. Kon wouldn’t have read it.
Tim turns back to Kon, with a guarded expression. He doesn’t seem remotely sheepish - if he reads anything, it’s defiant (and sleep-rumpled). Okay. Kon found the immigration forms for the meta country. How doesn’t matter, so he doesn’t ask. Doesn’t say anything, just waiting on the response.
There will be no monologuing, only direct responses. If Kon hasn’t put together what Tim’s been up to, Tim won’t do it for him. ]