Log: Dinner, Isaiah and Cat Who: Isaiah and Cat What: A bribe of dinner to leave the lab Where: Cat's surprise! When: Saturday night Warnings/Rating: Will update if needed
Isaiah'd had to set a timer. An actual timer that blared from not only his phone but also his computer. And he'd asked the techs to make sure he was out of the lab by a certain time. He'd planned to leave around lunchtime, to get back his apartment above the grocery store (that he hadn't seen in far too long), to shower and change his clothes, to maybe nap before his dinner with Cat.
Even when that time came, he snoozed the alarm, dismissed the pop-up, and it took his lab supervisor hauling him away from the current experiment for him to leave. He felt somehow wrong - guilty - for leaving work undone. He had another process he could run, notes to type up, calculations to review. But he also had a beautiful woman that expected to have dinner with him, and he hadn't quite lost that much of himself to the work that the dinner didn't hold a substantial amount of influence.
The air was sharp when he stepped out of the building. January air that held the damp possibility of snow in the night if the temperature dipped far enough. It hurt his lungs after the filtered recirculated and recycled air of the lab, but he took a deep breath, the stab of it going low into his lungs. It seemed to clear something from him when he exhaled again, focusing everything with the chill. He took a moment to stand in the winter sunlight (filtering grey but bright through the clouds) and breathe in deep, letting sun and oxygen soak their way into him.
By the time he moved again, he was feeling the chill through his jacket, and he clenched his keys in his pocket, heading for the parkingspot that had been designated as his so long ago. The drive back into town was uneventful, and opening the door to his apartment was almost unfamiliar enough to be strange. But he'd actually prepared for shifting his focus to the lab, so there was nothing growing in his refrigerator, and everything was left neat (if a little dusty). His bed was still made, sheets clean, and the sight of it (after so many nights on a foldable cot) pulled at him. He set another alarm (a loud one) and let himself drop into it and into a hard and sudden sleep (only enough time to toe off his shoes and pull the blankets up over himself.
His body was efficient at using every second of rest that he gave it, so the few hours of sleep that he gave it, in a real bed, left him surprisingly refreshed when he woke. He let himself just lay there for a bit longer before he got up and started the process of getting himself ready and presentable.
By the time he was done, he'd showered and shaved, kept his promise to iron his shirt (and pants), and was ready for Cat to arrive