[beau]

Listen, Covey had full intentions of going to bed at a reasonable time - in fact, he had planned to go to bed early so he could actually be productive in the morning instead of his usual zombie self. And he did! He was in bed by ten o’clock sharp, comfortably splayed out on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow. Unfortunately, it seemed nobody had caught his internal sleep schedule on this crazy idea of going to bed early. No matter how long he lay there with his eyes shut, sleep did not come and soon he was too restless to stay still for much longer.

He decided to check on his plants first. It was a relaxing activity, and though he was on a pretty strict watering schedule for them, it never hurt to check for dead leaves and the like. His main project was an orchid he was growing, intending to give it to his mother the next time he visited. They had a reputation for being tricky to grow, but the trick was to not baby them. People didn’t seem to realize that plants need to breathe too - you can’t always just drown them in water three times a week. He liked the dichotomy of the orchid though: despite its delicate appearance, it was actually decently hardy if you didn’t treat it like a delicate flower. That was probably poetic or something, but Covey didn’t care to think that far into it.

Everything was fine with that, so he moved on to straightening up his room, not that there was that much to do. He always made sure things were put away before going to sleep. He settled on spending a few minutes making his bed which he knew darn well he was going to be going to sleep in after an hour or two. Still, sleepiness evaded him and the boy was itching for more to do. The Commons, of course. His patrolmates would probably appreciate walking into a freshly cleaned commons.

He left his room with the intention of just clearing up some clutter and wiping down the countertops - which he did! It was only as he was walking back towards his room and one of his wings bumped against a coaster, sending it hurtling towards the ground, that Covey’s night went slightly awry. He lunged forward and made a dive for the coaster, hands outstretched to catch it and surprised that he did not manage to knock anything else over in the movement. The coaster safely caught, he straightened and decided to go place it on a coffee table, by the other coasters when felt it. Grit, likely tracked in by someone’s boots, sticking to his feet. He recoiled, nose wrinkling at the situation, and swiftly placed the coaster on the coffee table.

There should not be grit on his floor! Could he wear socks? Sure, he could, be he shouldn’t have to in his own home, even if he was sharing it with several other people. He had half a mind to place a note on the counter asking people to please remove their shoes before entering, but decided that would be too passive-aggressive. Instead, Covey resigned himself to vacuuming near the entrance of the commons.

He had only been going about vacuuming for a few minutes when a voice caused him to whip his head around so fast he thought he might get whiplash. Crap. In the moment of it all, he had neglected to remember that there may be other people who could hear his antics in the commons. He shut off the vacuum and stared at the onlooker for a moment - Phantasia. “Oh, hi. I’m uh.. cleaning. What are you doing?” Stupid question to ask? Of course. But Covey could roll with it. He had asked dumber things before.

[ @Estelle ]