"I’m not tired," says Sam, rather childishly, and stifles a jaw-cracking yawn.
"Bullshit," Six replies. "You’ve been staring at that computer screen for five hours straight."
He blinks and squints blearily at the monitor, as if holding it responsible for the unaccounted-for time. “Huh,” he says. “You’re right. Time to take a coffee break.”
She leans between him and the monitor, blocking his view and forcing him to back up a couple inches. The squeaking of the computer chair’s wheels comes to a halt when she reaches over his shoulder and grabs the back to keep it still. “Time to go to bed.”
Sam’s eyebrows go up, and he leans back in his chair. “Miss Maren, are you trying to seduce me?” he says, with what she thinks might be a sleep-deprived attempt at a seductive smirk.
Then his brain catches up with him, his eyes widen, and his face goes bright red. She can almost hear him choke.
"Uh," he stammers. "Uh."
Scratch that. There’s no ‘almost’ about it.
"I didn’t hear anything," she says, after letting him sweat for a few seconds. There’s a war on; she might as well have some amusement. “Bedtime.”
He’s too tongue-tied to protest when she puts both hands on the chairback and wheels him down the hall, the chair squeeka squeekaing all the way.