Insider || hs

So Tender

After receiving that cursed hard drive from Michael, Freddie spent about four extra hours in the office working on reading and analyzing the files. Her eyes were nearly numb from reading screens by the time she shut her computer down, but yet, she still wished she could have gotten more done that night. She had a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it, so even going home was not as relaxing to her as she would have liked it to be. She was stressed, and she wanted to keep working, but given that her eyes struggled to stay open much longer, Freddie knew that staying was not an option.

Also, she knew that if she were to stay much longer, Harry would get worried and probably make the journey to that side of the island so she didn't have to ride home on her own. He had offered to bring her dinner already, and so she did not doubt that he would follow through with his promise to meet her there. But that was an inconvenience she didn't wish to ask of him.

Thus, Freddie headed home on the subway at around ten o clock, being extra careful to watch herself and always stay with a group of people that seemed okay. There were always tourists on the train, so finding people to keep the creeps away was never too difficult. Freddie would have liked to shut her eyes and sleep for the majority of the journey, but she forced herself not to because of the lateness of the hour. Better to safe and sleepy than well-rested and robbed.

In the end, her commute home wasn't too sketchy, though there were several drunk people that got on her nerves. It's a Monday, people; who even does that?

Harry was presumably asleep by the time Freddie made her way up to their apartment, which she found herself somewhat disappointed by. She half-wanted to rant to him about how shitty her day was, because really, nothing could be worse that having a confrontation with your married ex-boyfriend and a massive, nearly impossible task assigned to you all in the same day. It was a horrible day, and had Harry been awake, Freddie knew he would have been all about hearing of it.

But Freddie knew that this was probably better anyway. She could immediately got to bed and then get enough rest before doing it all over again the next day. Hopefully, Damien wouldn't make another appearance to her.

And he didn't the next day. Or the next. Or even the next. But come Friday, as if all memory of their conversation Monday had evaporated, Damien did approach her while she was alone in the break room. She cringed to be alone in the same room as him again, but having had a week of practicing being nice to him, Freddie was able to acknowledge him civilly then move on to heating up her lunch. There was no reason for them to talk more than that, and so Freddie was extraordinarily confused as to why Damien seemed to think it okay to speak to her.

"You brought a lunch today?" he asked her nosily. "I thought you normally went out."

Annoyed that Damien would speak to her, Freddie glanced over her shoulder at him, who sat at the small table watching her. She turned away and continued to watch the microwave.

She told him simply, "I haven't had time to take a full lunch all week, so I've been bringing my own." The seconds ticked away on the timer, but at the most glacial pace Freddie could have imagined. Surely, these weren't normal-length seconds.

Though she couldn't see him, Damien nodded, "You've been busy, then?"

"Yes."

The shorter the answers, the shorter the conversation would be.

"Anything interesting?"

"No."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it does," Freddie said, still aggravated that the microwave was taking so long. Maybe she should take it out early? Cold chicken isn't that bad, is it?