His phone slept on the charger in the kitchen rather than by his bed and the sun woke Nathan instead of an alarm clock. As he stood in the kitchen waiting for coffee to brew Monday morning he rubbed the scar tissue on his temple with one hand and scrolled through the emails he had received overnight with the other.
In the midst of social media notifications and an argument with his editor and an argument with the other crime reporter and a 5:52am Nebraska Standard Time reminder from his mother that he told her he would send her his and Hannah's schedule for the entire goddamn summer and one of his old Corps buddies drunk-CC'ing everybody on the fucking planet about a wedding they were all supposed to attend next month lay this gem:
I just don't feel comfortable divulging my concerns over e-mail.
The reporter double-checked the sender address and groaned a querulous groan and covered his eye with his palm. But he kept reading anyway.
Little known fact: Nathan Marszalek is on Facebook. He has been on Facebook since 2006. He has untagged himself from more incriminating photographs than he can remember existing of him. That's irrelevant. Point is all he has to do to check this person out on Facebook is hit the screen with his thumb a couple of times and bring up the application on his phone.
The coffeemaker gurgled behind him as he finished his cursory investigation. When the last bit of steam sputtered from the machine the phone landed on the counter and Nathan poured a cup of coffee. He was going to have to wake up his laptop and research the incident before he reached out to Rodriguez. The timestamp on that email wasn't exactly doing either of them any fucking favors.
In the midst of social media notifications and an argument with his editor and an argument with the other crime reporter and a 5:52am Nebraska Standard Time reminder from his mother that he told her he would send her his and Hannah's schedule for the entire goddamn summer and one of his old Corps buddies drunk-CC'ing everybody on the fucking planet about a wedding they were all supposed to attend next month lay this gem:
I just don't feel comfortable divulging my concerns over e-mail.
The reporter double-checked the sender address and groaned a querulous groan and covered his eye with his palm. But he kept reading anyway.
Little known fact: Nathan Marszalek is on Facebook. He has been on Facebook since 2006. He has untagged himself from more incriminating photographs than he can remember existing of him. That's irrelevant. Point is all he has to do to check this person out on Facebook is hit the screen with his thumb a couple of times and bring up the application on his phone.
The coffeemaker gurgled behind him as he finished his cursory investigation. When the last bit of steam sputtered from the machine the phone landed on the counter and Nathan poured a cup of coffee. He was going to have to wake up his laptop and research the incident before he reached out to Rodriguez. The timestamp on that email wasn't exactly doing either of them any fucking favors.
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon
-- ixphaelaeon