allmhadadh

Mostly for the sake of having clean uniforms, and partly for the sake of not itching like mad to go join in the action, Scott headed off to find the laundry facility he'd asked his counterpart about earlier. He kept his communicator on him, patched to relay any calls from his desktop in his quarters, but he didn't seek out the booze. If things went wrong and by chance someone needed him, then he had to be clear-headed.

So, he took his notebook, his tricorder and the data-tapes where he'd copied everything from his desktop he'd pulled up, and a thermos of tea and went to do laundry. A stupidly comforting domestic thing to do, in light of everything else.

Once the clothes were in, he just settled down with his back to one of the units in his t-shirt and a new pair of trousers, and got back to work on the temporal issues.

And fairly soon, he was asleep, braced between the laundry unit and the wall, lulled out by the steady mechanical noise.

Somehow, despite that, it was still more peaceful than his bunk.