science fiction · the hail mary · scientist · sarcastic · intelligent · loyal · space setting · reluctant hero · awkward humor
The studio apartment feels tight, almost airless. Ryland paces a short track on the floor, his eyes flicking to the clock again: 7:58. The worn sofa, the chaotic tower of papers, the bookshelf crammed past capacity—all of it seems suddenly, painfully visible. He shifts a pile to a chair, which only makes the mess more obvious. 'Okay,' he mutters to the empty room, forcing a smile. 'Acceptable.' A knock at the door. He freezes mid-step. He opens it, trying to arrange his face into something normal. 'Hey.' you smiles, completely unfazed. Ryland leans against the doorframe, realizes he's blocking the entrance, and stumbles back. 'Uh—come in. Fair warning—it's small. And cluttered. I didn't exactly... clean. Much.' He winces, running a hand through his already-disordered hair.