Series: The Best Moves
Disclaimer: Wholly original work.
Characters/Pairings: Ethan, Myra Z
Summary: The perfect layout...
Notes: A 15minuteficlet. 'Expectations'.
Ethan flopped back onto the floor, careful not to kick his laptop as he stretched his legs out. He'd been working nonstop on the layout for the third-to-next issue of Remote Transmissions since sometime the night before. The sun had set and risen again, and Jameson had simply walked around him and offered him a bagel from the breadbox before heading to work.
"Best. Special. Issue. Evar," Ethan gasped, looking at the ceiling and smiling.
Two seconds later, his phone (which had been cast somewhere within arms reach sometime around three a.m.) began ringing and attempting to vibrate across the sky blue carpet towards an ultimate goal of the dark space beneath the sofa where he tended to keep Gameboys. Ethan watched it for a moment, wondering if it would actually manage to make the distance, before he snapped a hand over and grabbed it.
"Myra?" he rasped as he sat up. He hadn't even looked at the display.
"Best. Special. Issue. Evar," she said quickly. "Just got the e-mail and I can't believe it. Rhyn couldn't have done anything half as elegant."
"I know," Ethan said as he brushed his hair back out of his face. "I worked on it all night."
"Oh... were you asleep?" Myra sounded a little panicked and Ethan shook his head before remembering that he needed to speak because Myra wasn't right there. He could well imagine her being right there, but that was only because he was tired.
"Not yet," Ethan replied. "I should be. But I was thinking..."
"That's never a good thing when trying to sleep," Myra commented. "But if it's about the lack of content, well, I have two heaping boxes of review copies of everything you can imagine that just showed up from the States."
"Myra?" Ethan asked. He reached over and closed his laptop. He knew he shouldn't leave it sitting on the carpet, but a few hours wouldn't kill it.
"Why don't you bring it over," he said slowly, "in about eight hours."
He closed his phone, not waiting for her response. She'd understand. And besides, she owed him one - he'd just created the perfect layout for the perfect issue of Remote Transmissions.
And Jameson could just step over him when he got home. Probably offer to get Chinese takeout. Enough for three.
Ethan tossed the phone in the direction of the sofa and flopped back down on the carpet.
"Best. Special. Issue. Evar," he whispered as he closed his eyes.
Drink Lemonade! Tip Your Waitress!