[ we'll both be up in an hour, midnight says. kaveh is summarily tugged down. he doesn't question the lack of an alarm being set, nor even the missing perfunctory gestures that would suggest it. midnight is midnight. midnight has not and will not make promises, not to kaveh. in turn, kaveh shifts so that there is room on the cot for midnight. it's not a cot meant for two; it is the memory of a cot that has never been meant for two. the metal squeals in tinny protest beneath the weight of their bodies. it shudders and creaks and, as all protesting little cots wont to do, holds with the grudge of something that will one day come alive to snap the two halves of its jaws shut.

the red of kaveh's eyes roll. the gesture hurts more than it ought to, but day five is a little like this - the succumbing of body to gravity can be felt in every micron of kaveh's body. it acts first on the surface of his eyes. ]

My eyes are red because they are red, Midnight. I can hardly will my eyes to be a colour that they are not. [ kaveh says, ] And I did not redraw the barista station; the scaling was only off in the back pipes, and even then, that's hardly something that can be winged. Did you want a flood on your hands? I'm not putting back in the hardwood flooring if it gets water damaged. Luckily, I spent yesterday going through the greenhouse and I've found piping that works. They're back at my workshop, and they're undergoing treatment before I bring them here. And yes, there will be a custom filter for the water. Hard minerals are terrible for the taste of coffee.

And you - didn't I tell you to do the slat walls in batches? You've already put up four of them. If you do the rest of them, you won't be sleeping tonight, which I know was your plan. You cut the lock off this cot and you hardly use it. That's what pisses me off.