Who: Noa and Ruth Where: Dog Park, the resource hangars What: the morning after the party, Noa and Ruth discuss the previous night's shenanigans When: 10/4, mid-morning
Eight o'clock rolls around a depressingly short time after dawn. As Ruth makes her way, bleary-eyed, to the resource hangars, it feels like the carnival has only just finally shut down minutes before. The rides may no longer spin and the crowds may have dispersed, but the scent of funnel cake lingers in the air and her ears are still ringing from the din.
Someone's laying half-in and half-out of one of the tents, and Ruth steps over his legs, nudging one to make sure he groans before she continues onward. Not enough time has even passed, yet, for the drunk to become the hungover, and here she is going to work. "And that's why I didn't get drunk to begin with," she says, addressing the dog that follows at her heels. Calamity, of course, doesn't care. She's looking, longingly, at the sorry remains of someone's spilled popcorn, but Ruth snaps her fingers and the dog leaves it.
Most of her team are all still sleeping it off, but a few manage to stumble in. Ruth, without mercy but not without sympathy, sends them to work. It would be a mistake to assume that last night's revelry means no one will come to the hangar that morning, and before long they're busy enough that no one on the skeleton crew has time for slacking.
By the time Ruth looks up to see that the next person who's stopped by is Noa, things have slowed a little. Maybe enough of the camp is abed, or staying indoors to hide from the morning sun's glare, but whatever reason, Ruth's glad for the breather.
"Morning," she says to the other woman. They've had a lot of requests for crackers and other bland food this morning, and more than a few pleas for ibuprofen, so Ruth fully expects to be greeted with more of the same. "What you need this fine day?"