such anger so australia

Chuck folds a piece of paper, writes HARRY + FEUILLY across it in block letters, and flattens it back out again. On the inside, he writes:

Hey,

I don't know what your science is like, so: don't let Lady + Hector wander around by themselves. Keep a really close eye on them.

Somebody hid chocolate (brown candy) around the place, and it's poisonous to dogs. I assume she didn't know that. They'd have to eat, I don't know, probably a fist size of it for it to be a problem, but dogs love this stuff and get into it if you let them at all. I guess it smells good.

Just wanted to let you guys know.

Chuck Hansen

He considers it for a moment, sighs, and folds it back up. He flags down a waitrat, and asks them to tuck it under Feuilly's door. He thinks they live together, and if they don't Feuilly's probably the responsible one.

There's a lot of stuff to get done with the Jaegers, and usually that means Chuck up manually working on them.

But you can't work all the time.

Chuck's sitting in a folding lawn chair by Tacit Ronin's feet, shaded from the overhead lights by her bulk. He's reading a Hardy Boys' mystery, having carefully cleaned his hands of grease, and finishing up a bologna sandwich.

Enjolras wasn't in the main Bar, and he wasn't in room #89.

So Chuck's had to do a little adventuring, glancing down at the directions he got from the Bar in his hand, and feeling like he's definitely gone too far.

But every time he looks back, the hallway's just as short as it was before.

Finally he reaches the Library, and opens the door slowly.

After a moment, he sneaks in. There's nobody here, just... a lot of books.

"Enjolras?" he calls, quietly, into the silence. It's deadened almost immediately, and he decides not to break the silence again. It looks like there's tables through those stacks...

Chuck's room is small. Cramped is probably the word a civilian would use, but to him it feels... right. Safe, in a way the bar room doesn't feel. He's never had a problem with open spaces before; Shatterdomes are huge. But he's not really sure how to react, and what he'll have to react to, in the bar room.

It's bigger than most rooms in the Shatterdomes – a little over three strides deep, and five wide. The space includes a small refrigerator, tucked under the desk, which has a chair. There's a microwave on top of the desk.

Well, there's a little bathroom, too, and a closet with his drivesuit in a holding tank in the back – jeans, and plain t-shirts and long sleeved waffle weaves, and a copy of his Striker Eureka jacket with the added stamps for his last two kills. He hasn't gotten up the courage to touch that, yet. At least he can look at it now. Maybe next week...

His room is small, and there's a jaeger (Tacit Ronin) in the garage, and the whole universe (every universe), pressing in from the outside. He's sitting on his bed, back against the wall, heels caught in the frame of the bed, arms resting against his knees.

He can't sleep. He misses his dog, and he can't sleep.