Morning Person She's Not -- OPEN!!

[LIZ SHERMAN]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: OPENOUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: HOPE IT'S ALL RIGHT I'M KINDA BLEGH.

Liz's morning had been going less than well. She had not been sleeping well the last week or so to the point that she had spent the last couple of nights in her own room rather than crashing in Red's room -- which had turned out to be a good thing, given that this morning she had woken up at a little past three in the morning to the shrieking sound of the fire alarms that decorated her quarters like some people hung paintings or photographs. She couldn't remember the details of the dream, or nightmare she could only assume, that had plagued her during the early morning hours. She had been too distracted with the abrupt shower that the fire sprinklers had given her as the fire extinguisher system attempted to combat the flames that had roiled to life around her while she had slept.

Fortunately, she kept little in her room that was itself flammable; her clothes and personal items were stored in fire proof chests or closets -- the B.P.R.D. had had to adapt in the last years with Liz's stay becoming a more permanent occasion, but she knew she would hear grumbling for the expense reports of the bedding and such that had gone up in flames. Literally. After the fire had died down, and she'd dealt with cleaning up the mess that was left behind, she had known she was past any chance of going back to sleep. She had gone to Red's, hoping to have caught him in one of his nocturnal cycles, but he had been fast asleep and she hadn't had the heart to wake him. Even when they were fighting, and when she was furious with him... there was such an innocence about him when he was sleeping or when he thought no one was looking that made her not willing to disturb him.

She had wandered into the library, instead, curling up with a book in front of Abe's suspension tank while he slept with the sound of Vivaldi to keep her company instead. At an almost human hour, she had tried breakfast in the mess hall, but hadn't been able to stomach more than a glass of hot coffee, and a couple pieces of toast before she'd refilled her travel coffee cup and made her way towards the elevators. There was a meeting scheduled for this morning, and regardless of how much sleep she didn't get, she had to attend. Riding the elevator up, the doors dinged, and she looked up absent mindedly to check the floor level, realizing that she still had a few floors to go. It seemed she was being joined, however, and she felt a reflexive smile touch her lips as the opening doors revealed another agent to whom she offered a faint smile from behind the sip of her coffee and a murmured greeting.

Liz had always been a people watcher, and a collector of random facts and faces, as the rooms, hallways and corkboards filled with polaroids around the Bureau would attest to. "Are you up on the roster today?" She asked, taking a sip of her still steaming coffee. There was no telling what assignments would be handed out, or even what pairings would be dealt out. She usually was more read up on what problems were plaguing the Bureau than she was at the moment but she'd been easily distracted the last few weeks.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[LUDMILA ILYUKHIN]

Ludmila had woken up a lot later than usual, and said awakening had been heralded with an atrocious, throbbing headache. It was a good thing Anastasia had been nearby to give her more pain killers, otherwise the Rusalka would have spent the entire morning in bed and in agony. It had been maybe a couple of weeks since Ludmila had switched from going around in a wheelchair (an experience she hated, but nevertheless found profoundly enlightening), to crutches, and about four weeks since she'd been let out of hospital.

The doses of morphine she used to be administered had now been replaced with codeine-based painkillers, which she had to take three to four times a day to silence the dull ache that came from the areas where she'd been shot. Without her daily dose of pills, simply moving her arms would be far too painful.

She was unable to get dressed or even have a bath without Anastasia's help. The girl, having been off drugs for a while, seemed to have cheered up considerably, and her manners had also improved tremendously, however, she couldn't help but make joking remarks. One such remark was about Ludmila still being celibate despite being one hell of a looker, a remark that the Rusalka had taken in patient, suffering silence.

After all that, Anastasia always left to go to her morning courses. The B.P.R.D. had hired several teachers in order to tutor the girl, and while Anastasia was away, Ludmila was free to roam (or rather, hobble) around the Bureau. This morning, there was a meeting scheduled, and Ludmila had never missed a work meeting. Even now, when she couldn't walk without crutches, she left her quarters and headed to the elevator, where the doors made a point to try to close down on one of her crutches.

By the time she reached the desired floor, her pills had truly kicked in, and the codeine's euphorising effects were in full swing. As the elevator's doors slid open, Ludmila hobbled out, sighing happily. The Rusalka seldom smiled, mostly because she preferred to keep her emotions under control, but also because whenever she lightened up, she tended to draw the unwanted attention of every straight male and lesbian female in her immediate vicinity. Thankfully, the only person who seemed to be present was a young woman, whom she recognised as Elizabeth Sherman, the Bureau's resident pyrokinesist and one of the more well known field agents.

The Rusalka didn't bother glancing at the roster. She wouldn't be up there for a while, not until her back and legs had fully recovered.

"Are you up on the roster today?"

Ludmila turned around and began to giggle.

"- Me? Oh. No. Of course not. I can't even walk at the moment. I have sick leave, or whatever it's called in English. But I can't miss the meeting. In 86 years of work, I've never missed a single meeting, even when Fritz was dropping bombs on Moscow and my car and driver got blown up."

She gave Liz a smile so radiant that a passing Bureau clerk practically stopped in his tracks to stare at Ludmila. The Rusalka remained completely oblivious to the man, however.

"I suppose you're going to the meeting too, Miss Sherman?"