It was Thursday night, and that meant work. Artemius was well rested, having slept in until about five, dressing, having a visit with his mother for her early dinner (eating lightly) then meeting with Eltanin for a bit of catch up. Ari was out of town visiting family, but work said he couldn't come with this evening. So, when Artemius made his way into work, he was a little put out, but still in great cheer. A couple rum and cokes in his tummy also made him feel a little cheery/queasy, but in a good way. As was his usual, he greeted Geoff, who was relieved to see him.
"Ah, Baxby. You're a sight for sore eyes."
"You know, that could be lack of sleep," Artemius answered with a smirk. "How go things, old man?"
"Quiet, as usual. Although..."
"Coffee, yeah." He turned to the nervous newbie. "'Ow about you, sport?" There was that damn Cockney again. where the hell did it come from?
"Oh, uhm, I'm fine, thanks." He nodded. Artemius grinned.
"Alright. I'll be back wif yer jo, mate. Back in a tic." As he headed off, he turned back. "Black, right?"
Geoff chuckled. "Two sugars."
"Five creamers, got it," Artemius replied with a mischeivous grin. Geoff gave an impatient sound, and Artemius returned to the lift.
At Security, Neville was fighting with the Sandman again. Artemius knocked on the desk, and the stout guard woke with a start. Artemius grinned. "Rise and shine, handsome."
Neville grumbled. "What do you want?"
"Just orders is fine with me."
Neville scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Didn't you get the memo this morning? Stalwart wants Friday off - you two are getting switched off. So, you don't work tonight - you work tomorrow."
Artemius put his hands on his hips. Honestly, when was he to know that? They knew he worked nights - why the hell would he be here to get a memo? That made absolutely no sense. "Well, damn. I'm going to be up all night." He trailed his hands through his hair. Now what the hell to do? If he stayed home, he'd eventually get bored and fall asleep - which would be bad - but it was a bit tricky to find something that amused one until 7 in the morning. Damn shiftwork. He growled, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Thanks, Neville," he decided finally, and left, taking off his badge with a growl. What a waste. He ventured to the cafe for lack of better thing to do and poured himself a cup of coffee before depositing himself at a table.
Now what was he to do?