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If gossip could be used as a power source, Stratt's Vat would be able power a small European country for years. Isolated from the rest of the world and from most distractions, there was little else to do between sleep and work and sometimes, to Stratt's disgruntled resignation, during work. Inevitably, people chattered at their stations while waiting for results or a second pair of eyes on a set of calculations. If Stratt could have made it against the rules, she would have, but it was useless. It would be impossible to enforce, and she reminded herself that the crew needed some kind of entertainment while she kept them all at sea. There were only so many options for enrichment, and she told herself she could handle this one.
Even if she was the topic of at least some of the rumors. It didn't help that she held herself away from the crew—well, most of the crew—and refused to answer any leading questions posed by some of the braver crew members. They thought she didn't know, but she wasn't stupid or oblivious to her surroundings. Most of her job was reading people and understanding how to get them to give her what she wanted as quickly as possible. So Stratt noticed the way they'd started looking at her after Ilyukhina stayed with her during a thunderstorm the previous week.
The sudden storm had caught Stratt up on the deck and Ilyukhina had found her there. Ilyukhina learned first hand that, as it turned out, the fearless leader of the project did in fact have one significant fear. And went it hit, it essentially paralyzed her. Astraphobia. The irrational fear of thunder and lightning Stratt had carried all her life. The only reason she'd made it back into the ship was Ilyukhina's quick action to haul her inside. That wasn't what started the rumor back up though—and just after Ilyukhina had gotten them to stop spreading it around that Stratt was married to her.
No, what started the rumor up was that one single crew member had spotted Ilyukhina slipping out of Stratt's quarters the next morning wearing pajamas while carrying a bundle of clothing.
And it spread like wildfire through the ship.
Stratt was going over some progress reports when Grace slunk into her office under the pretense of getting some work done there. She watched as he shifted on the couch self-consciously, setting down the report in her hand. "Just tell me whatever you're going to say," she said when his discomfort became unbearable.
"The crew thinks you and Ilyukhina are sleeping together," he blurted out, face red.
There was a rustle of paper as Stratt picked the report back up. "We talked about this already," she said. She had seen his phone screen during a meeting the morning after the storm, and he'd told her then that someone saw Ilyukhina leaving. "So I can only assume there's something new?"
"I told you that someone saw her, not that everyone thinks you're sleeping together," Grace said, and clearly this distressed him more than it distressed her.
Stratt sighed. "And you want me to, what? Send out a memo that I'm not having sex with one of the astronauts? People are always going to find things to talk about, Dr. Grace."
Grace made a strained noise and with great reluctance, held out his phone to show Stratt the screen. "But someone took a picture."
Stratt froze halfway through setting the report in her "finished" stack, mind racing. Rumors were one thing, photographic evidence was another. Then she set the report down and looked up at Grace. "Who?" she asked calmly, examining the slightly blurry picture of Ilyukhina mid-stride with Stratt's door open partially behind her. What, were they staking out her quarters now?
"Um," Grace said, flipping his phone back around and locking the screen. He fidgeted with it under her cool gaze. "I don't–"
"Dr. Grace."
Grace waved his hands at her and nearly sent his laptop flying. "No, I mean, I really don't know. It was texted to me by someone else."
"By whom."
Grace ran his hand over his hair, further ruffling it. Clearly he'd been stressed about this for longer than he'd been in her office. Probably since he'd received the first message during the meeting. "DuBois," he muttered.
"Please have IT follow up with him and find out how he obtained the photo," Stratt said briskly, picking up the next report. "When they track it down to the origin point, have them confiscate the phone and send the person to me. Before you do that, however, you will be the one to send out a memo."
"Me?" Grace asked, eyes wide as he pointed to himself.
"Yes," Stratt said shortly as she made an annotation on the report. "It does not have to explicitly mention myself or Ilyukhina or any incorrect assumptions people may have come to. It's probably better if you do not. Simply make it clear that photographing people in positions that may be construed as compromising is unacceptable. We are in a very small environment, and conflict caused by such actions will only impede progress on the project."
"And I have to be the one to send it," Grace said.
Stratt made a sound of irritation, her calm mask slipping for a second. "If I do it, it will only encourage the rumors. In fact, I would like you to make it clear that your actions are your own and that I had nothing to do with them." She looked at Grace again. "Please understand that this is not a request."
"Yeah, I mean, yeah, of course," Grace said, nodding.
"And please show it to me before you do. I would like to see it by the end of tomorrow at the latest," Stratt added, cross-checking the report in her hand—a different one—with an email she'd received from the same department earlier that morning. She noted the changes on the paper report and set it aside. She looked up to see Grace still on the couch watching her and raised her eyebrows. "Did you have a question?" she asked.
Grace shook his head.
"Then I believe you have work to do," she said, tilting her head toward the door.
"Right, yeah." Grace scrambled to his feet and headed to leave, then he hesitated in the doorway. "You're…you're really calm about this," he said tentatively.
Stratt raised her eyebrows.
"Right, yeah, I'm going," he said.
Once he was gone, she opened the secure messaging app on her phone and sent a message to Ilyukhina. My office, please. Immediately. Then she dropped it to her desk and pressed her fingers to her temples.
Twenty minutes later, Ilyukhina arrived, pink cheeked and slightly out of breath. "Sorry," she said, closing the door behind her. "I was in engineering lab. No phone. Is distraction."
Stratt pushed her chair back from her desk and folded her hands in her lap. "Have you heard?"
Ilyukhina blinked, then she very visibly suppressed a smile. "You did?"
A sigh left Stratt and she leaned back in her chair, her eyes on Ilyukhina. "I do not know why everyone thinks I do not know what's happening around me. It's getting insulting," she said.
Ilyukhina's only response was to shrug. "You keep yourself apart," she said. Then she grinned. "Apparently we are having good time."
"I thought I told you to be discrete," was Stratt's only response. "This is exactly the situation that I was trying to avoid."
"I was!" Ilyukhina protested.
"You have seen the picture," Stratt replied, arching her eyebrows.
"Yes, based on placement, they were around corner," Ilyukhina insisted, "where I could not see." She looked at Eva searchingly, a furrow forming between her brows.
Stratt kept her face neutral under the other woman's scrutiny. "Next, people will start to say I am playing favorites."
"Maybe you should," Ilyukhina joked, then her expression turned sheepish when Eva didn't laugh with her.
"If rumor gets out somehow that I am fraternizing with the crew in any way that could be considered compromising, the UN could remove me as project director," Stratt pointed out.
"They would not," Ilyukhina said, aghast.
"I assure you that there are people right now who are looking for any excuse to get rid of me," Stratt said, straightening the stack of reports she had yet to get through. "Admittedly, I have pissed off some very important people by barrelling through their red tape and road blocks."
"Who would they even put in charge?" Ilyukhina asked incredulously.
Stratt shrugged. "Probably Grace. He has the knowledge and most people seem to like him." Unlike me went unsaid.
"He could not do what you do," Ilyukhina said, waving a hand. "He cries too much."
Stratt arched her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Other day he cried in lab because Carl brought him packet of Twizzlers," Ilyukhina pointed out.
Of course he had. Stratt made a note to ask him if he was getting enough sleep. She had noticed a direct correlation between the two. "He would do fine," Stratt said firmly.
Ilyukhina frowned. "So then what do we do about rumor?"
"I have Grace working on it," Stratt said. "It will be better if I don't address it directly, and if you are asked, you should simply deny it."
"Right, because is not true," Olesya said with exaggerated longing, and Eva forced a laugh back down.
"You are incorrigible," Stratt said, but that only made Ilyukhina grin wider.
"You noticed! Good." Ilyukhina tilted her head to the side, dark eyes bright. "Was there something else?"
"No, that was all I needed to discuss with you." Stratt turned her attention back to the reports she'd been reviewing only to look up again when she realized that Ilyukhina hadn't moved. "Did you have something that you wished to address?"
The other woman narrowed her eyes at her and pursed her lips. "You are okay?" she asked.
Stratt knew what she was seeing. Bags under her eyes from another sleepless night, what was starting to feel like a permanent furrowing of her brow, the way her hands were shaking slightly from too much caffeine and too little food. "I am fine," she said, brushing off Ilyukhina's concern. She laid down the report and settled her hands on top of it to hide their trembling.
"You have eaten today?" Ilyukhina pressed, leaning forward in her chair. The curly brown strands of her hair framed her face.
"I…" Stratt looked at the time in the upper corner of her computer. One-thirty. She'd started the daunting stack of reports at seven, paused for her first meeting at eight, and then resumed at eight-thirty after telling herself she would stop for breakfast at nine. That hadn't happened. "…I have not," she admitted. "Unimportant, I have another meeting in ten minutes. I will get something after."
Ilyukhina made a dubious sound. "How long will meeting last?"
"At least an hour," Stratt replied, moving one hand to wrap around the large to-go cup of coffee that was sitting on her desk. "Two, if the British and American representatives decide to get into a pissing match again and I am unable to wrangle them back on topic."
The chair creaked beneath Ilyukhina as she leaned back and blew a breath out through her lips. "Always meeting with the Americans," she said.
"Their president is a pushy idiot who would take credit for the entire project," Stratt replied, "just because their government provides some of the funding. Thankfully, he is not on the call today."
There was a soft beeping as Ilyukhina pressed something on her wrist. "There," she said, looking satisfied. "I come back in one hour ten minutes. Then we eat."
Stratt frowned. "You do not need to wait for me," she protested.
A laugh burst out of Ilyukhina as she pushed herself from her chair. She turned back around when she reached the door. "Out of two of us," she replied, "I am one who had big breakfast. You are one who should not be waiting. One hour nine minutes." Then she gave Stratt a cheery wave and left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Just over two hours later, Stratt ended the video call and dropped her head into her hands. She had not managed to avoid the pissing match—in fact, it had ended up being tinged by a good deal more misogyny than she preferred, as the British representative had turned out to be another woman. Apparently, the United States didn't like to be outnumbered by what this particular representative—she had not bothered to remember his name after he made a comment about her having to answer to her nonexistent husband—considered the weaker sex. The meeting had devolved into shouting for a full fifteen minutes before Stratt had managed to get them back on topic.
A heavy sigh left her. Her head had started aching halfway through the meeting, but the little pangs of hunger-nausea that kept going through her stomach warned her off of trying to take any pills until she had managed to eat something. A soft knock on the door was met with a quiet string of Dutch curses before she called out, "Come in."
"Was meeting productive?" It was Ilyukhina's voice.
Stratt didn't look up, too busy trying to swallow back another, stronger wave of nausea. It seemed the three black coffees she had—the equivalent of an entire pot, really—were determined to fight back. A series of rapid footsteps approached her desk, and then there was a presence standing very close beside her. Feather-light fingertips brushed wayward strands of hair from the side of her face. Stratt swallowed again and tilted her head to glance at the woman standing next to her.
Ilyukhina's dark brown eyes flashed wide for a moment. "You look like shit," she said bluntly, and Stratt would have laughed if she didn't feel like her stomach was trying to turn itself inside out.
Instead, Stratt closed her eyes with a muttered, "Thank you so much." It was all she could manage before she had to swallow another flood of saliva.
A hand landed on her upper back. For a moment, it didn't move. Then, when it became apparent that Stratt wasn't going to ask her to remove it, Olesya rubbed soothing little circles. "You still have not eaten?"
Stratt shook her head, a slight motion all she could manage. "I should," she said finally. By which she meant that she should try.
"Stay here," Ilyukhina said, and Stratt felt a pang of loss when Ilyukhina removed her hand from Stratt's back. "I'll be back. In meantime," something landed on the desk in front of Stratt, "nibble."
It was a foil-wrapped granola bar, one of the ones Stratt had ordered to keep stocked in baskets in meeting rooms and work spaces—except within the labs themselves—so that no one missed out on eating. One of the scientists had passed out due to low blood sugar early on in the project when they got carried away and missed three meals in a row, and ever since, Stratt had made sure snacks were readily available in a variety of forms. It had seemed to work for everyone except her. There was a basket of them sitting on top of the mini fridge where she kept bottled water, but she never remembered they were there. Mostly because that had been Grace's doing.
When Stratt pushed herself back up into a proper sitting position, Ilyukhina had already darted out of the room. Stratt reached to pick up the granola bar, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Even the sight was making her stomach turn. She opted to take a sip from her neglected water glass instead. The liquid was room temperature, but it washed the bitter coffee taste from her mouth, which helped for a moment at least. Then it settled uncomfortably in her stomach. Her eyes landed on the granola bar, but the thought of the overly sweet food made her press her lips together. She closed her eyes and struggled to regain control over her body. Anything less was unacceptable.
A ringing began in her ears and Stratt's eyes snapped back open. A horrible feeling had settled in her stomach. Her eyes landed on the door to her private bathroom. She swallowed, her eyes drifting closed briefly. If she didn't go now, she was going to have to resort to using the waste bin under her desk, and it would be much easier to hide if she could just flush it away. She swallowed again, but really the saliva was coming far too quickly for that to be effective, and it was only serving to make her feel worse, somehow. She spit discretely into the waste bin to get rid of at least some of it and then got to her feet.
To her horror, she was halfway to the bathroom—hand pressed over her mouth—when the door to her office swung open again. She heard a surprised sound from Ilyukhina. Then Stratt was closing the bathroom door between them, leaving Ilyukhina alone in the office while she fell to her knees in front of the toilet, gasping and retching. It had been a long time since this had happened, Stratt thought distantly while her stomach convulsed. College, she was pretty sure. She had frequently forgotten to eat while working on her thesis. Her nose burned as the contents of her stomach—coffee, mostly—forced their way out through any means available. Her lungs ached, and she gasped in a breath once she was finished, leaning over the open toilet for a moment longer just in case. She wasn't sick, she knew it was the result of not eating, so that should be it. Short and to the point. Her body getting revenge for her neglecting it. Eva sat back, breathing hard. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of her face. Thank god, her hair had already been in a bun.
"Eva?"
Stratt finally registered Ilyukhina's voice through the door and the rattle of the doorknob. Stratt must have locked it automatically. She pushed herself to her feet. "One moment," she called, voice rough. Other than that though, she was pleased that she actually sounded quite normal. She rinsed out her mouth with water, followed by some of the mouthwash she kept beneath the sink. The cool water felt good on her flushed cheeks, and she splashed her face until the red lessened some.
"Oh, Eva," Ilyukhina said softly when Stratt opened the door. Ilyukhina held out one of the sealed bottles of water from the mini fridge.
"Please, do not," Stratt said, but she took the offered water. Then she brushed past Ilyukhina and sat back down at her desk.
"You are sick?" Ilyukhina asked, following her. "Should I bring you to medical? I ask, but I know answer is no." Disapproval saturated her tone.
Stratt sighed. "I am not sick. I promise," she said when Ilyukhina gave her a look of disbelief. "I just waited far too long to eat and–" she gestured to the coffee cups on her desk "–this does not help."
Suspicion crossed Ilyukhina's face. "You had dinner last night?"
"Define dinner," Stratt replied, investigating the to-go containers that Ilyukhina had placed on the desk while Stratt was in the bathroom. Her stomach still felt uncertain, but overall, she did feel better. And she knew the food would only help as long as she ate it slowly.
"Terrible, horrible. I am telling on you to Grace," Ilyukhina said, pushing all of the containers so they were in easy reach for Stratt. Then she gestured. "I did not know what you wanted so I just brought bunch of things."
Eva peaked into one and then opened it all the way. It was chicken and rice soup. Perfect. She grabbed a spoon. "Do not," she said, addressing Ilyukhina's threat as she took a spoonful of the broth. "He will be in here constantly and it will disrupt my work and his." In truth, he sometimes reminded her a little of a baby duck that had followed her around for an entire spring when she was a child.
"And when we come in here to find you dead from starvation on floor?" Ilyukhina asked, eyebrows raised.
"Better than dead of starvation in thirty years with the rest of the world because he was too busy babysitting me to do his job," Stratt said pointedly.
Ilyukhina took a bite of some kind of wrap. "So I do it," she said with a shrug. "I already know and my job is mostly to go to space, yes? I cannot do that until ship is ready, and training is not so much. I am less busy right now than you or Grace."
Any burgeoning appetite fled immediately, and Stratt laid her spoon down atop a napkin. She could feel Ilyukhina's eyes on her as she stared into her soup. It was probably the most nutritious thing she'd had since two days before, the last time she had made it to the mess to eat a real meal. "You do not have to do that," Stratt said quietly.
"What, go to space?" Ilyukhina asked.
"Ilyukhina."
"Sorry, sorry. I did not mean to kill mood," Ilyukhina said, and she actually did seem contrite. A rare occurrence. "I just mean, I would rather you not destroy yourself. I am engineer, not biologist, but I do know primary biological needs. Eating and sleeping are at least two of those. You cannot replace everything with coffee," Ilyukhina insisted, and then Stratt did smile, just a little upward curve of the corner of her mouth.
"I can try."
Ilyukhina made a sound of protest, and Stratt held up a hand to ward off any argument that she was about to make.
"I do not need a babysitter," Stratt said after she picked up her spoon again and resumed eating.
The food was hitting her stomach now, the broth and rice gentle but satisfying. Eva sighed and felt her body trying to drag her into sleep now that she had eaten. She took another swig of water to wash down the last bite of the soup. "Thank you, Ilyukhina," she said, eyes falling on the other woman.
Ilyukhina smiled brightly as she got up and gathered the garbage. "Is no problem. Is pleasure, actually." She winked as she leaned in close over Eva's lap to toss the trash into the little waste bin.
Before she could stop herself or consider the potential consequences, Eva took advantage of the proximity to reach out with one hand and brush a curl back into Olesya's low ponytail. When the other woman looked up at her with wide eyes, Eva looked into them searchingly for a moment before trailing her hand to curl around Olesya's jaw. A flush of pink spread across Olesya's cheeks. Then Eva bent down and pressed a kiss to Olesya's parted lips. She drew back again before the other woman had a chance to act. "Thank you," Eva whispered.
Olesya dropped back on her haunches, eyes wide, one hand half-lifted to her mouth. "You–"
"I believe you have an information session with some of the engineering crew," Stratt said, returning to her progress reports as though nothing had happened. The one in front of her from one of the environmental teams also had a corresponding email, which she pulled up instead of giving in and looking at the woman still standing flabbergasted beside her. "It would not do to be late."
Stratt watched out of the corner of her eye as Ilyukhina opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. Then she stammered out an agreement and left, swearing very quietly in Russian all the way to the door. Once Stratt was sure that the door was closed and the other woman truly was gone, she allowed herself to laugh quietly.
She did not allow herself to think of what she had just opened herself up to when the future came to pass.
Three meetings and a staggering number of reports and emails later, Stratt surfaced from her work to the sound of a knock on her door. It opened, and Ilyukhina peeked around the frame. "Hello, Director," she said with exaggerated formality. Then she stepped into the office, hands held behind her back.
Stratt eyed her warily. "Should I be nervous?" she asked.
Ilyukhina shook her head. "No, no! You have not had dinner?"
A quick glance at the clock showed her that it was far past dinner time. "I have not."
"I know, was mostly rhetorical," Ilyukhina said, flashing a grin. "Come, we go to mess."
"But I have–"
Ilyukhina darted up to her and grabbed her arm, the sudden physical touch startling. "No excuses, you come now. Reports will be there when you get back."
"Give me fifteen–"
Ilyukhina pulled Stratt to her feet with strength that was no longer surprising. "I am hungry now," Ilyukhina said, pouting even as she dragged Stratt away from the desk.
Stratt pulled her arm free, stopping to look at Ilyukhina, brow furrowed. "What?"
"I said that I am hungry now. I have been hungry really," Ilyukhina answered, putting her hands on her hips. "So we go to mess now."
Understanding dawned on Stratt. "Ilyukhina," she asked carefully. "If you were hungry before, why did you not get dinner?"
"Because I was waiting for you," Ilyukhina said immediately.
Absolutely not. "Ilyukhina, go eat dinner."
"I will when you do," she said, a stubborn expression setting in.
"You cannot force my eating schedule by threatening not to eat yourself," Stratt said irritably, taking a step back in the direction of your desk. "It is ridiculous."
"Eva–"
"Director," Stratt corrected, cutting her off. Ilyukhina snapped her mouth shut and straightened subconsciously. Guilt dug its claws into Stratt's stomach, but she pushed forward. "Go get some dinner, Ilyukhina. I can make it an order, but I prefer not to." Please, do not make me.
Silence fell between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Stratt kept her director mask up, squashing the memory of the earlier—foolish—kiss mercilessly. The two women stared at each other. Stratt, with every wall that she could manage up and guarded and Ilyukhina, with her eyes—usually so playful and confident—uncertain and confused. Stratt had done that to her.
Ilyukhina swore suddenly and violently in Russian, Stratt only just stopped herself from startling. She'd never seen the other woman angry, not the way she was looking at Stratt now. Dark eyes fiery and frustrated and hurt, deep down. "You are most frustrating woman I have ever met!" she hissed in a loud whisper. "Let me help you."
"I don't need help," Stratt hissed back, mindful of anyone who may hear them through the door and thin walls. Something of which Ilyukhina also seemed aware. "You are being insubordinate, Cosmonaut Ilyukhina."
Ilyukhina laughed, and Stratt fought not to cringe at the sound. "What are you going to do?" she asked, balling her hands into fists. "Fire me? I am first choice for mission! You will not compromise project because I crossed line by committing horrible offense of caring."
Stratt's expression smoothed and she took another step back. "You are correct," she said in a calm voice. "I will not. Barring disaster, you will be sent to space, hopefully to find a solution to our astrophage problem, and then you will die out there. Far, far away from home."
The words settled into the space between them. Ilyukhina opened her mouth to say something that Stratt did not want to hear.
"And it will be because I ordered it so," Stratt finished.
Ilyukhina closed her mouth again, her face creasing.
Stratt sat back down in her desk chair and folded her hands in her lap as she looked at the astronaut. "I– We need you and the other astronauts to be mission ready when the time comes. That means learning the mission, yes, but it also means taking care of your body. Eating, sleeping, you cannot hold yourself to my own personal standards," Stratt emphasized. "I only need to last as long as it takes the Hail Mary to get off the ground. After that, it does not matter. You need to last through a four year coma."
"What do you mean, after launch does not matter?"
Stratt blinked, but Ilyukhina was looking at her with deep concern. "What?"
"You said that after launch does not matter, for you," Ilyukhina said, stepping forward so that she was standing directly in front of Stratt's chair. She placed her hands on the arms of the chair so that she was leaning over Stratt, which had the startling effect of making Stratt feel small and all of a sudden she was struggling to maintain her air of authority. "Why?"
Eva had not actually meant to say that. She hadn't told anyone what she suspected would come of her after the project ended. Eva tried to brush past it. "Unimportant."
"What will happen to you after project ends, Eva?" Ilyukhina pressed, either unwilling or unable to let it go.
Stratt sighed and glanced over at the email from Roscosmos that was sitting unanswered on her screen. It was a stark reminder of all the work that was still waiting for her after this conversation. If she was lucky, she would have time to grab a few hours of sleep before her first meeting of the morning, an update on that days activities and the plans for the day ahead. She could just refuse to answer, but Ilyukhina was stubborn and persistent, and she was right, Stratt couldn't exactly fire her.
"Eva?"
Stratt couldn't bring herself to bristle at Ilyukhina's continued over-familiarity. The same over-familiarity about which she'd had to sternly correct more than one politician in the past. Just like Eva couldn't stay mad at her for committing the cardinal sin of caring about Eva's welfare. The cardinal sin of somehow barreling through Eva's defenses.
"I imagine I'll be stripped of power at the very least," she said, finally. "Closely monitored, probably. Possibly imprisoned, though I imagine they would have to put together one hell of a case considering how many countries were also involved in this, willingly or not. Either way, they will not allow me to continue to contribute anything of value, not now that they have seen the lengths that I am willing to go to in order to get things done."
Ilyukhina pulled the other chair around so that she was beside Stratt instead of on the other side of the desk and dropped into it, shaking her head. "But they will need you here," she protested.
They, not we. Ilyukhina had already separated herself it seemed. She would be among the stars at that point, hurtling toward Tau Ceti as fast as they could send her. There would be nothing more Eva could do for her then. There was a pressure on her hands, and Eva blinked out of her thoughts to see Olesya looking at her with wide eyes. The other woman had placed one of her hands atop Eva's.
"No joke?" Eva asked, raising her eyebrows. "I knew what I was getting into when I signed on to the project. Just like you. Do not worry about me, I will be fine."
Olesya swallowed, and Eva found her eyes drawn to the movement of her throat. "You are always fine," Olesya said, scoffing.
"Now you get it," Stratt replied, withdrawing her hand and turning to her computer. "Go get some dinner, Ilyukhina. I still have work to do."
For a brief moment, Ilyukhina looked like she might protest again, but something in Stratt's demeanor must have made it clear that she would not win this one. Instead, she only nodded and left the office. Silence fell in her wake. Regret washed over Stratt, and she considered following her. Then, she sighed and got back to work.
When she came back after a bathroom break, there was a to-go container on her desk with one of her sticky notes on top. Scrawled across the paper in Ilyukhina's messy handwriting was, Since you will not go to dinner, I will bring dinner to you. Stop being so stubborn.
Eva opened the container to see some kind of salad and a smaller container with dressing. Warmth bloomed in her chest, and she could not stop the smile that spread across her face then. She sat back down and pulled up the next document she needed to review, picking up the fork to take a bite as she did.