The soft clacking of spongy keys being hit with slightly more force than necessary. A constant litany of barely vocalised curses and invectives. Intermittent creaks and groans of an office chair being jerked about as its occupant grabbed some more of her by now stone cold dinner pizza.
Deep in the zone, Francesca felt something soft brush her ear, breaking her concentration. She became aware of a presence behind her, a split second before Kate peered over her shoulder and asked "Whatcha doin'?"
Her heart racing a marathon a minute, the programmer almost decked the woman, which would be one way to get out of fixing other people's problems at this company, but would create a whole ream of new ones for herself. Including probably a broken hand, because Michelle Yeoh she was not.
When her heart had climbed down from her throat enough for her to speak again, she managed a shaky "Jesus Christ, when did you get here?"
Kate didn't answer, and Francesca glanced to her right. Was her manager sniffing her hoodie? Slurring something about how she smelled?
Was this a dream? This was a lot like one of her dreams, but even weirder, somehow.
Francesca pinched her leg. Ouch. Nope. Not a dream. This was really happening. Okay. Don't read into it, the woman is wasted. Probably doesn't know that she's doing it.
She loudly cleared her throat, deeply uncomfortable, and tried again. "Don't you have a party to be at?" she tried to suggest.
Kate seemed to catch that one at least, and dragged her nose out of the crook of her subordinate's neck. "Hm? Ya shd... shouldn't be out here aaaaaall alone." she declared, sounding even more wobbly than earlier. "Yr... Y're aaaaalways alone." Was that a sad note in her voice?
Yes, because I can't stand most people, and I work better by myself anyway. Less interruptions.
Francesca wilfully ignored the fact that her manager had apparently watched her closely enough to be able to make that statement with some confidence, even in her inebriated state. Ignored the fact that a perfectly manicured finger was poking her in the cheek, over and over. Tried to, at least. Eventually, she couldn't stand it any longer. "Look, was there anything you wanted from me? Because if not, I'd really like to go back to this massive problem I'm fixing, so that everyone can actually get paid this month."
So what if she'd raised her voice and wasn't being "polite and constructive" in her communication? Her job was to fix problems, not coddle drunkards. Even if they were technically her boss.
More mumbling she couldn't make head nor tail of, but Kate eventually produced a more or less coherent "'m your manananangr, 'm sps... supposed to help ya." The woman beamed at her, looking proud of the fact.
Francesca'd had enough. She was tired, pissed off, and this was wasting even more of her night. "You want to do something for me? Make it so I don't have to spend the majority of my time fixing other people's mistakes. The rest of the team are fucking incompetents that cost the company more time and money than anyone knows. They disgust me."
There. She'd repeated the same thing she'd put on performance evaluations for the last few years, only this time stripped of social niceties. She was all out of fucks to give. It's not like anything would happen anyway.
"Okay. I'll fr... fire 'em."
Wait, what?
Her manager spun on her heel — it was a miracle she didn't keep spinning and fell over — and marched back to the party. Francesca belatedly grabbed onto the back of Kate's dress, reining her in. There was a warning creak of wispy fabric, but she held on.
Holy shit.
After a few confused seconds, Kate stopped struggling, and looked down at Francesca. "Whassamatta? Don't ya like m' idea?"
Oh boy. Yes, but...
"Do it on Monday. When you're sober. Maybe." the programmer hedged. "If you still remember any of this." She released her manager, who swayed in place. "Now uh, please go back to the party, so I can finish this? Please?"
Kate looked on the verge of tears. Like Francesca had kicked over her sandcastle. "Can't I stay here 'n watch ya? I'll be soooo quiet. Shhhhhh!" She collapsed bonelessly on the nearest chair.
"Uh. Yeah, sure." Francesca kept her eyes firmly on her screen, because Kate's dress was not made for movements like that.
Holy shit.
Slowly and with renewed vigour, the rattling of keys picked up steam, until Francesca was back in the zone again...