Work Text:
Nero straightened his doublet as he entered the dimly-lit workshop. The sun had yet to rise, and only a direct path between the rooms was lit by lamps. His boots clopped against the flagstone floor as he followed the lamps that just so happened to lead towards his station. He peered around the doorway and a violet-haired Miqo'te in front of some separated machinery. She was tightening a few bolts with little effort.
"Ah, good morning, D'rena," Nero said as he entered. D'rena twisted towards him, her face was almost coated in dirt. "You're here early."
"Mornin'. I'm here still. Never left." She slurred her words slightly. As he got closer, he noticed her eyes were half-shut. Half-crinkled schematics and notes were scattered about her workstation. As he looked over some of the notes, the line between her shorthand and total gibberish blurred as a wet letter caught in the rain.
He looked down to see her struggling to fit a wrench on a different bolt. "I think that's a three-quarters you're using on a five-eighths," he said after clearing his throat. D'rena looked at the wrench quizzically- well, as quizzically as she could manage in her state. She looked near to collapsing right then. "Run along home," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder- she flinched and snapped her head towards him, looking more alert. "I'll clean this mess before someone who cares sees it."
After a moment, she let out a breath Nero didn't know she was holding. "No, I can-"
"You may be needed at a moment's notice," Nero said curtly, "It wouldn't do for the great champion of the realm to be seen asleep on her feet, would it." D'rena stared at him. Nero stared back. Despite her eyes drooping and her head tilting forward, repeatedly, she would not concede the one-sided staring contest. "Garlond will not ask as nicely."
Without a word, she removed a glove and rubbed one eye and then the other before taking the other off. "You've the right of it. Good night, Nero."
"Rest well," he said as she stood. "Ah, a moment!" he took his handkerchief and wiped a dark smudge off of her face before turning it towards him. "Just dust," he said to himself. "Give yourself a proper wash, too." He held it out towards her. "Here. For your face." She merely nodded and took it before pressing it against a few spots on her face as she walked by. It was slight, but she wasn't quite walking straight. But for a moment, he thought he saw her cheek go red.
He knelt down and began to pick up the papers, giving them a quick glance and sorting them as he went. The task was made much more difficult by the scribbles on the diagrams and notes pages. He still had no small amount of trouble reading Eorzean script, but D'rena's writing was almost another language in itself. The girl had many ideas. Such a shame, however, that none among them could decipher it. He chuckled as he came across one that was most certainly covered in squiggles and chocobo scratch. Perhaps a little blackmail, should he need it.