[After she disconnected, Phil remained at his computer, poking around the drive and trying to figure out how to encrypt posts with limited success. He thought nothing of Triela's abrupt exit from the conversation—maybe she took up his suggestion to talk to Barton.
And then he fell asleep at the keyboard.
Phil's never been a heavy sleeper, though, so when the muffled sound of someone breaking into his goddamn living room bumps against his eardrums, he's up and out of the chair in seconds. He grabs his gun off of the desk, makes a really pissed off face when more water drips out of it, and squints.]
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And then he fell asleep at the keyboard.
Phil's never been a heavy sleeper, though, so when the muffled sound of someone breaking into his goddamn living room bumps against his eardrums, he's up and out of the chair in seconds. He grabs his gun off of the desk, makes a really pissed off face when more water drips out of it, and squints.]
Who's there?