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Being holed up in one’s office can be a blessing and a curse. Pritchard wasn’t the kind who’d go out voluntarily, he had to get dragged out. But neither did he want to spend the entire day clicking, or at the times – mashing, those computer keys in order to achieve something anyone could do in his mind. But it wasn’t like that at all, he just sometimes wished people did something for themselves sometimes; security was important after all, physical or not!
Frank would often curse under his nose, cursing people for breaking things which would result in a larger problem. No rest for the wicked, as they say. And he just wanted to get this over quick.
The programmer became focused, more than ever. He shoved aside all the curses he wanted to mumble out as that would be a waste of energy. Even through the thick glass walls an his door shut, he could vaguely hear two guards talk about music.
Music huh?
That brought back some memories. Memories of the younger days when he still had the willpower to go out and do as his parents told. To train his voice in hopes of becoming a singer. But seemingly, years of academic training were wasted. It’s been a long while since he had even used his singing voice and wondered how he would fare right now.
Why he chose to become a programmer later was a lost memory, but perhaps it saved him the trouble of thinking that he is a huge disappointment in his parents’ eyes.
The man leaned back against his chair, stretching. He was actually checking if no one was headed for his office so he wouldn’t look like a fool as he sing quietly to himself. The stage was ready and for the practice round it was perfect with no audience to judge him.
There was a song that he had learnt back in the school. He didn’t like it back then, felt like it was ridiculous with the idea of person not wanting material things if they’re given the best of things. Now, he understood and felt it resonate. Sadly, some lyrics were lost at the back of his mind, even so, he salvaged his now-favourite part.
Donnez moi une suite au Ritz, je n'en veux pas !
Des bijoux de chez CHANEL, je n'en veux pas !
Donnez moi une limousine, j'en ferais quoi ?
Offrez moi du personnel, j'en ferais quoi ?
Un manoir a Neuchâtel, ce n'est pas pour moi.
Offrez moi la Tour Eiffel, j'en ferais quoi ? fafalafafala--
His voice was barely audible but he was having fun; enough enjoyment to let his work go smoothly. In fact, as he went, his voice grew louder and louder, but he was mindful of his surroundings and still wanted to keep his singing abilities – or their remains – a secret. With that, the rest of the song came back to him.
Je Veux d'l'amour, d'la joie, de la bonne humeur,
ce n'est pas votre argent qui f'ra mon bonheur,
moi j'veux crever la main sur le cœur
Allons ensemble
découvrir ma liberté, oubliez donc tous vos clichés,
bienvenue dans ma réalité !
Francis still had the muse of songs within him and it did sound better than he had expected; he mentally patted himself on the back. He kept on going, singing to himself to an invisible audience, sometimes letting that nasal voice go louder, which was caught by one of the people, whom Francis wanted to encounter last in this state.
Pritchard was hiding behind his desk, the lit up computer screen, lines of code reflecting in his eyes. His lips were still tracing out song lyrics with a quiet melody as the door opened. The man was so in trance that he did not notice the unwelcomed guest.
Jensen opened the door as quietly as possible, knowing that Francis would be busy but he also heard something interesting going on and was definitely curious. In order not to break the spell, he just sneaked in and closed the door behind him, a cup of coffee in hand for the other.
Adam was most definitely surprised of the programmer’s hidden talent. He wasn’t too much into music but he definitely knew what something, or someone, sounded good. And this was beyond good; he could listen to this soft song for hours to no end. He became even more glad after his hud displayed a finalized analysis from the CASIE aug. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Pritchard so… Relaxed? Was singing one of his passions but he was just too embarrassed to admit it? Maybe he’ll poke fun at it sometime later.
The augmented man approached the other one’s desk and that’s when the show ended; with a small noise from putting a paper coffee cup on the desk next to the keyboard.
Francis immediately stopped in his tracks, his lips parted and hands just above his keyboard. He slowly looked up at the intruder and staring at him blankly while the other one was returning a grin.
“Damn it, Jensen, you can’t just sneak up on people like that!” he complained.
“I did knock on the door…” Jensen lied. “But you seemed to be too busy to care.”
“You didn’t and I know that.”
“You’re right.”
The guest stood on the side of the desk and leaned against it with his arms crossed. He watched as Frank picked up the delivered cup into his hands and gently blew against it to cool it down.
“You complained about the lack of coffee around.” Adam commented. “Thought would be of some use right now. Heard you got piled up with work, hm?”
“Thanks.” Only for a mere moment their eyes locked before he took a sip of the coffee. “And yes, thanks to these fools in the building who are careless and forget about the importance—”
“There was a breach, alright.” Jensen knew that Pritchard would give his usual lecture about virtual security and whatnot and he had heard that a million times because he was the only one who Francis vented to so much.
“Correct. And who’s the only person who can fix that? Me.” The programmer set the cup down rather angrily aside. “Now if you’d excuse me I need to get back to the mess.”
“Alright. I’ll see you later, Pritchard.” Jensen bounced off the desk and as already making his move out before he stopped next to the door. “Actually, can I ask you something?”
Francis wasn’t happy that he was forced to postpone the work but he made some time for the other already, so he might as well indulge.
“What is it?”
“Where did you learn how to sing like that?”
A simple question but it set slight panic in him. It was embarrassing; the hobby, or whatever one would call that, didn’t suit his looks and he didn’t want to be poked fun at.
“What do you care? Can’t a man sing to himself?” Francis retorted, trying to dodge the question.
“I never said that.” Jensen looked back at the other through his shoulder. “Instead, I’d encourage it.”
Pritchard was suspicious of the compliments but his cheeks revealed the keenness towards them by turning bright red.
“You’re going to tease me for long or are you going to leave?”
Jensen already had a grip on the door handle. He looked down at it, then back at Francis.
“I’ll leave if you’ll promise me to give a solo performance sometime.”
“Over my dead body!” he already regretted that he had slipped into an old memory just like that.
Jensen chuckled in a low tone, covering his eyes with lenses. This time he opened the door.
“Right, right.” The augmented man shook his head. “Later.”
“Jensen, you’re busy?” a rather static-y voice rung in Jensen’s ear through the commlink.
“No, not really. Something’s wrong?”
“About earlier…”
Jensen was walking down the street towards the police station but since there was no rush, he moved into an alleyway and leaned against a wall to have a conversation without interruptions.
“I’m listening.”
“… Please don’t tell anyone about that.” Francis’ voice lowered.
“Really? Is that it?“ Adam sounded surprised. “It’s not like I have anyone to tell, you know.”
“You’re right…”
“Anything else you wanted? I can stop by your office if you’d like.”
“Not really.” Frank coughed dryly. “If you want to meet up then I can come to your apartment after work.”
Behind the dark lenses covering Jensen’s eyes and the tall collar, the man was smiling to himself.
“I’ll be sure to come back at a reasonable hour then. You’ll have to tell me about the song you sang earlier to me.”
“… Of course. I’ll tell you all about it and more.” The programmer said lovingly, ending the call.