keep up with me baby, going too hard [lorin]

Early morning sunlight streamed in through the open windows of the well-maintained and usually clutter-free third story apartment. It illuminated the brick walls lined with bookshelves stuffed to bursting with volume upon volume of bound books and loose scrolls. More books and scrolls lay scattered on the floor, surrounding Donnie's head like a halo. The Irishman was on his back, staring unseeing up at the ceiling. He was running through numbers rapidly in his head: theories and calculations and strings of digits stretching away forever.

He was disheveled, looking more piratical than usual with a three-day's growth of beard on his handsome face. Donnie had dark circles under his warm brown eyes from lack of sleep and his shoulder-length curly hair was a mess. He was in a plain white muscle shirt and loose pants. It was far too warm outside to contemplate anything heavy, although his apartment was a perfect temperature as always. He couldn't abide feeling sweaty in his own house if he wasn't purposefully working up a sweat.

Donnie groaned, rolling to his knees. "Uhg. Ma mouth feels like sommat went and crawled innit ta die," he grumbled to himself as he used the coffee table to finally haul himself to his feet. He stretched, wincing at the kinks in his back. Apparently passing out on the floor in the middle of calculations was not the kind of sleep his body needed at thirty-one years old. "Damn it all, I hate getting old." He looked at the chalkboard he had wheeled into the center of the living space. "Now, where was I last night? Teritu's Theory of Rhythmic Mimicry?" He immediately launched himself back into his work, ignoring the ever-growing need of his body to eat and sleep. Those demands were minor distractions. He'd address them once he'd finished this next sequence...

@Lorin Odell

Lorin had been at Donnie's apartment for a month now, and so far she'd discovered that her host was brilliant—brilliantly crazy, brilliantly lazy, and all-around good for nothing. He had no idea how to cook even one meal that didn't involve takeaway, he didn't know how to keep the place tidy, nor did he know how to keep up with his personal grooming, let alone his laundry. She understood why he needed an assistant. He would've lost his head if she wasn't there to put it on his shoulders! She spent the entire previous day cleaning up the living area, doing the wash, and cooking dinner which she had left out for him before she retired for an early evening of bath time, book-reading, and writing to Seth.

She awoke this morning to discover that his meal was left untouched on the dining room table, collecting files, and his bed—which she had freshly made the night before with warm sheets—had yet to be laid in. She could see him up in the living room/office. The stench of his three-day old clothes insulted her nostrils as soon as she opened the door. She wiped her face with her hands, and quietly cleaned up the messy supper, putting on a pot of water to boil for oatmeal, and a kettle for tea. He was going to eat something this morning if she had to force-feed him, which was likely. He was something like a very large man-baby and she was prepared to sit him down and bib him and play airplane to make the oatmeal go in if she needed to, or if that would help get the point across.

She washed the dishes while she waited for the water to boil, then added some apples and oats and a pinch of salt. When it was done, she added cinnamon, vanilla, and some slivered almonds.  She poured a dash of cream into the center and placed the bowls on the table. She allowed the tea to steep for a moment when she went to get the master of the house.

She entered the living room and cleared her throat to get his attention. “Breakfast is ready.” She offered gently, hoping he would come when he was called. If not, she had much stronger words at the ready and willing.

Donnie wasn't used to having to deal with anyone when he worked like this. Of course, at his real and very secret job, he worked with others like a good Ministry boy. But his mind worked so quickly that usually it was easier to simple shut himself in from the rest of the world. Avoid distractions, solve the puzzle, finish the task. That was how he liked working, how he liked living his life now that he had left the Aurors.

But the last time he had tried that approach, he'd ended up in St. Mungo's for over three days as they flushed his body of various toxins with a punishing regiment of potions. He had promised his little sister that he wouldn't do that to himself again, wouldn't scare her like that again. So he'd hired a helped to keep him from literally killing himself with work. And Lorin had been doing a bang-up job for the past month, but old habits died hard.

So when she called to him, breaking his concentration, he was half-ready to spit out some harsh and biting remark. But he looked over at her, saw her looking at him like she was about three seconds from coming over and spanking him with the ladle she was holding like a weapon. He sighed, remembering the meal she'd left, that he hadn't eaten. "Aye," he replied meekly. "Let me take a quick shower first? I probably smell a fright." He trotted to his room, closing the door and stripping off his clothing.

About ten minutes later, he emerged cleaned with a freshly trimmed beard. He was still dressed casually in loose pants and a tight shirt. He came to the table, sitting as he smelled the oatmeal. "Smells delicious. Like what my ma used ta make in the mornings." He took a deep breath, considering. "Cinnamon, and sommat else?"

“Apple, vanilla, and almond.” She explained, smiling at him a bit more warmly now that he'd changed and brought himself to the table. She hadn't expected it to work. In fact, she had thought that she would need to pull him by the ear to the table. To have him there, and with a shower, no less, was nothing short of a miracle. She sat across from him to dig into her own.

“You should take a nap after this.” She began, sure that he wouldn't like the words but knowing that he needed to hear them. “I washed your sheets last night, so your bed's fresh and your pillows are fluffed. You should get at least three hours today, if you could manage. The math will still be there when you wake up unless I crack the code in your absence.” She teased lightly.

She was a novice arithmancer, but she was useful to some degree. Her first day she had spotted something his tired eyes had missed, and ever since then she insisted she was a master arithmancer, even though she knew that she wasn't. It was a running joke, one she was loath to give up. Truth be told, she did more around the house than she really did with his work, but every now and then he asked her a question or had her look over something, which made her feel very important, indeed.

The nannying made her a bit tired and often felt like maid's work. She wasn't his maid, but she hated to be idle and so she often took on additional duties since, frankly, he lived like a bachelor. She couldn't handle having certain parts of his home need cleaning that badly, so she took it upon herself to do it. Of course it left very little time for anything else. Maybe she'd get the shopping done if he took a nap for awhile. They were nearly out of milk.

“So tell me, what exactly are you working on, Kearney?”

"S'good," Donnie mumbled as he ate. He looked at Lorin, cocking his head to the side, regarding her with a little smile. "Ya know, I did a good day's work when I hired ya." He gestured to himself. "Look at me, still in one piece." For a bachelor, Donnie was occasionally terrible at looking after himself. He was also not very good at following orders, as he was about to demonstrate.

He shook his head at her mention of sleep. "No can do, princess," he replied. "Tha work has ta get done. Tha client was very specific about tha needs an tha timeline." He wasn't about to tell Lorin he was working on this project not just as a job, but also as a favor to an old friend, @Valerian Stringfellow. Donnie and Val had been close at school. Despite being a Stringfellow, Val had taken an instant liking to Donnie. They were both sharp and where Val lacked brawn, Donnie was happy to help out. He was one of the people that Donnie graduated with whom he considered a true friend. When Val came to him with a job, Donnie was more than happy to help. And to also get paid. Val knew the value of hard work and they were both Slytherin, after all. You never get something for nothing.

Her comment about solving the problem while he slept made him smile teasingly. "Aw now, don't be putting an ol' man outta business. If ma clients hear tell of another master arithmancer, and a pretty face ta boot, I'll never see 'em again." Donnie liked to tease Lorin. It was a bad habit, left over from when they first met. The ex-Auror used to visit her father often, and even at a young age she'd never really liked Donnie. Then again, she didn't know him, either. He was the rough and brash Slytherin stepping into a lion's den. They got on even less as she grew, putting on airs which only made Donnie turn up all the traits she hated about him. It was entertaining to watch her go all red and huff at him.

But things were a little different now. Lorin was a woman, no mistaking that. And she was also his secretary, at lest for another month or so. Despite his misgivings, he motioned to the chalkboard. "Ya tell me. Look at tha diagrams, the number patterns. Can ya see what I'm aiming for?"