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Warning! brief mentions of suicide for those who need the warning.
Over the next few days, Michael and Ana spent most of their time at the cooperative. She'd sit by his side at his desk or during a meeting, listening in and trying to make sense of what everyone talked about. She would usually be doodling in a notepad, ordering about anyone she saw, or giving Michael blowjobs in his office chair. She didn't know why, but the idea of him having an office was extremely arousing.
The only thing she had really caught on with at the meeting was the discussion of bombs, a mass destruction that would take the world by surprise. It intrigued her, her mind playing images of the world ending in flames like her lover had told her it would. She couldn't help but think of her old friends. She found it funny that she couldn't muster up the energy to care about them dying. She only ever cared about Michael.
Sometimes she felt useless though, just sitting around and listening to the men talk like she was transported back into the nineteen fifties. She would try to make herself useful at times, usually just stumbling around and trying to find something to do. Michael would roll his eyes, telling her that she was being silly. Perhaps she was, so she typically settled for playing games on Jeff's computer.
Venable annoyed Ana immensely, and the feeling went both ways. Even Michael grew quiet when they were in the same room together, the atmosphere being so thick it could have been cut with a knife.
Miriam would occasionally come along with them, offering her help or simply keeping Ana company. Michael and Ana both seemed to treat her like glass at times, not knowing what to expect from Miriam 2.0.
And it wasn't just Michael who was beginning to worry about Cordelia, Ana had started wondering about the woman herself. But she couldn't bring herself to really worry about it, her brain being to doped up on her own happiness to allow it.
It was rather late at the cooperative, and the two remained the only ones left in the building. He was sitting in his desk chair, Ana perched up on his lap and leaning against his chest tiredly. She was thinking rather intently, her eyes cast off down on at his ringed hands as they flipped through pages and documents.
With all the talk of the end times, it had got her thinking of just what exactly her and Michael would be doing when the time finally came. She knew there would be some people left, otherwise the planet itself wouldn't function. Still, Michael and her would be ruling about no doubt, and her mind couldn't help but wonder.
She sighed against him, her legs curled over his as her hand laid around his stomach. He was wearing a warm, black turtleneck, his golden hair shining in the dark room that was illuminated with a desk lamp.
"You're thinking so loud that my head hurts, Anastasia." Michael smirked, his eyes remaining down at his work.
She blinked as she looked to him, clearing her throat. "Sorry. Just thinking."
