Spilling Guts

Part 97 - Helping Hand

Louis avoided looking at the sticky note he had stuck onto the only visible square of screen from the pile of patents on his desk. On it was a date and time. He'd have to give Megan and Teegan his answer by Friday. He had dragged over a spare side table to house his precious coffee as he tried to attack and sort his overgrown inbox.

No one had offered to help him.

Not even Will, whose inbox had one single patent file, still untouched. Will had breezed in bleary-eyed with a cup of tea, that Louis had not made, and then breezed right back out with a murmured "I'll be with Balcuwitz."

Apparently Will had things to talk about.

Just not with me, thought Louis with a bitter note. Didn't even mention how the sleep study went. Left me in the dark. Sure. Like communication isn't something we need to work on.

Like I still need to say "sorry".

At Main Tech, all agents at their desks were doing their own paperwork, patent or case related, and ignoring his plight. The exempt consisted of Reese; dragged off by Teegan, on Cetz's order, to teach him how to punch. The betrayed glare Reese had given Louis as he had come in that morning would have grinded dull a diamond-edged drill bit.

Louis had yet to talk to Reese about why he chose him. He hoped when the time came he could come up with a better excuse than: "would you rather I picked Beni?"

Beni ignored him as well.

They probably wouldn't help him with his inbox even if he paid them double their extortion rate. As for Will...

Well, Louis wasn't in the best position to ask a favor of Will. Perhaps after enacting his vendetta against Beni and Reese, Will would be more open to sharing inboxes.

It didn't help that part of his brain kept fishing around for an answer to why he had dreamed of Will in such a... "sensual" way. But he came up with the same slippery hagfish of a catch; am I attracted to Will?

This is neither the time, nor the place to be thinking about such a thing. There is no Balcuwitz here, or the leather couch. Only misery in patent form. I'd take a mission to another dumpster at this rate, thought Louis, setting aside another patent into the "can be done quickly" pile. The "will take forever" pile leaned precariously against the side of his desk. At least now he could see his keyboard.

I could be calling Mrs. Watts, getting updates. He had yet to see what the doctor assigned to Will's sleep study had to say about his report, but he'd take anything that meant he was doing something of worth instead of...

The pile of "will take forever"s slipped and landed in a sliding pile over his feet.

"Fuckin' paperwork," Louis growled. He would never catch up at this rate. "I could have a bonfire with all of you."

A white lab coat swung into his vision. "Louis, you doing anything right now?"

Louis cocked a eyebrow high above his shades and gestured to the pile of patents the same way one would point out a litter box in need of cleaning.

Rachel smiled. "Want to come with me to cold storage?"

"Sure." Louis didn't want to delay the inevitable, but he'd take it if it was being offered. He matched her steady stride to the elevators. "What do you need?"

"Aside from accountability," Rachel pressed the down button. "Grovic's Device."

A chill crawled down Louis' neck like a lizard, cold scales and needle claws. "Oh."

Questioning attraction to Will, doused.