[ There isn't much that Ryo doesn't try to alleviate the noise throughout the course of the week. Once one methodology seems to fail him, he moves onto another: foam, bedding, pillow stuffing? He's been in and out of rooms modifying their contents to his liking. He may or may not have torn open a few materials in the spaces around his quarters to get what he's needed. Either way, he's been testing it to see if he (and subsequently Akira, who seems always to benefit from these kind of odd experiments) can steal more than a few minutes of shut-eye. Even if that means using replicated beeswax toward the end of the week a la the Odyssey. If it worked for Odysseus and his men against the Sirens, then clearly it ought to work for them.

So, perhaps anyone who comes in to see what he's up to will have an item held out to them with an accompanying, terse request: ] Hold this.

[ What is it? A pillow? A blanket? Some kind of mysterious waxen structure from the replicators? It's up to them to do as he's asked or drop it. ]

[ When he's away from Akira (which seems rare for this duration), his work on the replicators is slow and steady. After all, if he isn't going to be able to get proper rest, then he's going to make the most of it. Staying up for days at a time isn't something he's unaccustomed to already, but three days was his standard limit.

This, regardless of his better attempts, is day four. Or later. It's difficult to keep track.

The usual sharpness to Ryo's eyes has dimmed minutely, but it doesn't seem to deter him. His hands are still remarkably steady as he adjusts wires and gears within the machine's metaphorical stomach, but his moods are not. From one part of the day to the next, Ryo might be snappier with directions or in a relatively mellow state for someone like him. It's a gamble, just as much as any else. ]

a. [ There's a point where Ryo keeps back the creeping headache with an influx of coffee. For once, he makes himself take a break at one of the nearby tables, his chin propped up against his hand and his eyes lowered to dark recesses of his cup. It's certainly much more palatable than usual due to their combined efforts, but it's almost odd how relaxed Ryo is the more he sips at his standard brew. He's started to suspect that something is a little off with it like it was when he first arrived here, but it's a bit late to reverse the impact. ]

Don't touch that, [ he'll start, if someone attempts to use one replicator nearest him. If they turn their head, they'll see Ryo in their standard issue jumpsuit, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Despite the fact he's a little bit paler than usual (if that's possible), he looks... Amenable to conversation. His eyes are no less discerning than usual, but his posture isn't forbidding. ] I'm cleaning it.

[ It seems whatever interaction he had last put him in a decent spot for them. ]

b. [ Or, perhaps, they've caught him at another time when he's got his hands buried deep in the guts of the replicator, his mouth pulled into a thin, white line. There's coffee cups stacked to his right and every-so-often under his breath he hums out an unconscious bar of whatever song is playing in the background. If he didn't seem so ill-tempered, it would almost be something to remark on considering how even the softest and lowest notes he hits are decidedly on key.

Stepping too near to him might be bad choice, considering how if he hears anyone come in he snaps his gaze up and pins them as if trying to assess whether or not they're a threat.

Give him a second and he'll try to return to his work after a small breath. Or don't and try to pacify him like a startled animal. ]

[ Love doesn't exist. At least, that's what he's always told himself.

Love was only a chemical component in social bonding. It was what brought groups together. It was a mechanism, honed through centuries of trial and error. It was the continuation of biological imperatives, grown from lust and forged for the benefit of offspring. It was what brought food and shelter, protection where one adult could not serve alone. Love, for all it was stressed, was nothing more than a clever evolutionary fabrication. Like sorrow, it only served the purpose to keep oneself alive and keep one's genetic history going.

He reminds himself of this frequently. He reminds himself of it now, amid the blaring of something he recognizes as at least American, its slow open an odd match to the tightness that wells behind his ribs as he sits on the floor of the Observation Deck, his eyes fixed on the nearest moon as though he's expecting its appearance to shift.

He keeps his breaths low and slow as he presses his back against the wall behind him, one hand tangled in the white of his coat — knotted up tight to his chest, his heart, as though trying to stem an invisible wound. No matter how he tries to subdue whatever it is, it comes back sharp and insidious. It aches in a way he can't (or perhaps won't) put a name to. It hurts, and his eyebrows knit as his fingers periodically tighten. To anyone passing, it could easily mark itself as a physical reaction to a very real pain, but all he does is nod if anyone greets him. Occasionally, he might blink as though trying to clear his vision, the blue of his eyes almost — either way, it doesn't seem that he trusts his voice to answer for him at first, but he might be inclined to talk for the distraction.

Maybe. ]

[ At the end of it, Ryo is a touch more worse for wear than he's letting on. Even so, he finds himself next to the Recreation Center where he's taking a small break before hauling himself the rest of the way to his room (a blessed and cursed few feet).

He's alert, at least, even if he's sitting against one of the doors. It's so quiet. So, so quiet. He has what looks like a perfectly alright cup of coffee cradled between his palms, black as tar. He lifts his eyes to whoever passes him by, but can't quite summon the energy to do much more.

Wrapped up in the white of his coat (which looks incredibly soft and inviting), he looks kind of like a kid who dragged a blanket off his bed after reluctantly getting up.

Might as well join him. ]

[ Want something special or want to hit me with something else? Go for it! Feel free to chat with me on plurk at rasasvada or on Discord at morning star#3715. ]