That happened, too.
Alone in the machining room at night, Sputnik thought about the blurry old days while taking care of the tools.
No, I wasn't the only one thinking about it right now. Not only while I was taking care of the children, but after I returned them, until the evening, today I remember very often, back then - when I met Crewe. A few years before now, when I was still shallower than I am now. Every once in a while I felt so restless about myself that I came to the machining room, even though I didn't have a job with an impending delivery date.
It's terribly hateful that one word of that pervert I heard during the day sounds more like a curse or something on the bottom of my belly. but thanks to you, I was able to look back slowly on the time by myself. About myself running with only half the momentum.
"... because I looked back, what is it?"
As I speak to myself, I bring the gripped xagee closer to the light. I kept it as a spare, and left it on, but when I grinded it repeatedly with a grinding wheel, the surface eventually held light evenly. There doesn't seem to be any brushing left. Otherwise, do some tool care that was concerned about the pin set, hammer, …… storage condition and discard as garbage what you decide is not usable. The polished oil was carefully applied and returned to the original shelf.
Well. After taking care of the tools, I thought for a moment about maybe even inventorying the merchandise next... but on my own I thought I could miss it and stopped. At least not just myself, the other one, as usual...
"... go to sleep"
I dared say it out loud so as to erase what I had in mind. Pretty soon, it's something I've come to rely on.
Turn off the lights and take a seat. Exit the processing room and lock it. Then I did see the store keys, and then I went up the stairs to about half way up - then.
Something, I thought I heard a noise.
The night starts to sound even small. Going up the stairs, stopping and clearing his ears, it felt like it was being heard from Crewe's room. It's not as noisy as I think it is in contention - but it reminds me of the time of the watch I saw earlier. Single was referring to a little before eleven, but is it still awake?
Walk down the hallway and stand in front of her room, making a whispering knock.
"Coo. Are you awake"
And the knob quickly turned. Only a few doors open and a crew of surprised expression peeps into his face.
For a moment, the crew in front of me seemed oddly old, probably because until earlier, I was thinking back to how she looked at an early age.
"Mr. Sputnik? What's wrong?"
"Yeah?"
He calls me back, looking at the blurry face that came out.
"No. When the machining room closed and came up, there was something going on. I'm opening the store tomorrow, so get some sleep. Don't let the kid stay up late."
And she relaxed and somehow frowned sadly.
"Yes, you know,... yes"
"Is something wrong?"
The second "yes" was a slightly lower voice. The vaguely cloudy words and the floating expression do not seem to have been offended by the attention paid to staying up late. I wonder and ask, is it difficult to answer?
"Coo?"
call. And, she pulled her lips softly.
Shut up for a while, then face up like you've decided to.
"Um, Mr. Sputnik."
"What's up?"
"Oh, please... ahhh"
I grip the area around my sleeping roll belly all the time, but I guess it doesn't mean I want you to rub it with abdominal pain. Also, the scene of being asked to do a 'favor' in her bedtime clothes, if the woman who said it wasn't this, I would also have evil feelings about the words, but I hate this.
I see eye to eye with her with her face up. But as soon as he lay down his face again, he began to wander his gaze around restlessly.
"Um... I'll serve you about warm tea if you like, so, sorry for the late hour, but, uh, I'm sorry for the, uh, very small, uncomfortable room... you know, if you like"
Small, uncomfortable room. say,
"I'm the owner of this building."
"... it's clear. I'm sorry. Uh, uh, it's my room. It's a hugely luxurious, beautiful, lovely room, but if it's all right, please... is that it?
That's right, she also seems to have noticed something wrong with her rhetoric.
Sputnik grinned at the funnyness of Krew, who erased his feathery look and put his hand on his chin with a strange look on his face, and raised a question mark that he wasn't, no, but.
"I don't mind about the room. Is there a problem?"
"Um, yes, hey, please... Um"
"Briefly."
"Yes."
It's still a night's sleep for this one, but it won't even be that time for Crewe.
All day tomorrow, you can't be outstretched by an employee, if something goes wrong, I just answered one word in an unsatisfactory manner trying to get rid of it and put him to sleep, but that seemed enough for Crewe. I gave him a slightly relieved look and nodded.
And I can be invited into the room. It's been a long time since you've been in Crewe's room, Sputnik thought. This building is her own right, but as far as the proprietary part is concerned, she thinks she's free to use it unless she even starts a fire.
Crewe probably said "narrow" as humility, but the area allocated as a proprietary part is not so different from that at Sputnik's. By comparison though, I do feel somewhat narrower than his room because the trinkets are decorated everywhere.
On the shelf as soon as the door was twisted, cat stuffed animals and bird accessories with a large circle of flowers were placed as if they were playing friendly, and the walls were hung with framed embossed flowers about where they had been made and whether they had bought them again. It's scary, so I don't think you'd mind the stuffed animals and figurines looking all over the night, but on the contrary, they're easier to spend with that stuff on them.
All of Crewe's rooms are ground-footed except the entrance, and he's starting to walk on a pink-based checked carpet with a slipper. I didn't make that arrangement with Sputnik. She said it was simply her set of myrules, "Shoes are somewhat calmer to take off". I don't know what you're trying to say, but isn't it troublesome to change shoes at the entrance every time you go home - and Sputnik, who rarely drinks to the limit and returns and rolls back into bed unconsciously, thinks gossip.
The place we got to after Crewe was the kitchen. I take a pot in the shape of a frog's face deformed by a hikiken with both hands and stick it out and say, "I'm going to make tea now," but I'm not going to stay long with Hate.
That's why Sputnik waved loose.
"I don't want tea. Just tell me what happened."
Sitting in someone else's room late at night, though a child, wouldn't be a very good thing. That's why I said it, but it didn't seem to be the answer she asked for. Krew's expression was all cloudy, and he leaned down again - so finally, I think he tried to make tea because he wanted to postpone the conversation.
When it comes to that, is her "consultation" that hard to say? Fulfilled?
Waiting without saying anything, Crewe eventually silently placed a pot of frogs. Then when I made a slipper noise and left the kitchen on a small run, I eventually came back with one thing in my chest.
"Um..."
And I will give you what I have brought with me, with both hands.
"I've been trying, but I can't fix it, it's gone..."
"… Completion"
Step aside, take it up that was raised by her hand.
Sure, that's hard to say. Sputnik smiled bitterly.