not_that_ray | (no subject)

He's already moved the stack once. It doesn't stop him from moving it again. From one side of the desk to the other. This time though he takes the time to rifle through the layers, looking not just under but between the loose sheets of paper. The stack hemorrhages paper clips and scraps of small scribblings as he does so. Some land on his lap. Others fall onto the floor or into the trash can.

"Gotta..."

The whole thing teeters. Ray is, of course, oblivious. It's abandoned in favor of the top drawer of his desk. He yanks it open and thrusts his hand in, moving the mess inside around with no rhyme or reason. The contents haven't changed since the last time he looked five minutes ago.

"... be here..."

He slams it home, causing the entire desk to stagger. The vibration in turn causes the precariously perched collection of papers to slide in every direction. His eyes grow to the size of saucers as he dives for the unwieldy monster.

"Shit!"

The paperwork just seems to glide right past his hands, his efforts mocked.

From one small mess to one gigantic mess. Nice, Ray. Nice.

"... somewhere," he breathes out in defeat.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fraser watches the activity with no small measure of inward despair. The librarian in him feels affronted by the wanton abuse of information. He hides it fairly well, however, choosing to look away from the crime and fidgeting with his Stetson instead. "I took the early shift this morning."

That's his way of saying 'Yes.'

Ray's in that odd state between desires. On one hand, he wants to be alone. On the other hand, he's pretty sure he shouldn't be. If there's anybody he trusts while in this kind of a funk, it's Fraser.

"Lunch? Then the lanes?"