(no subject)

It had seemed quiet important to find her, when he'd wandered out of the kitchen, scraps of incomprehensible notes overflowing from his pockets and a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls balanced in his hands.

It wasn't until he'd wandered the basement levels of the building that he realized he hadn't the faintest clue where she slept, only the vaguest notion that she had a room in the compound. It had been days since he'd seen her, and she'd seemed quite off since her little mishap during the elections. Usually oblivious to those sorts of matters, he realized she must have been in a bad way.

Thus, the baked goods. Food had always been the way to his heart, the way to cheer him up when he was feeling down, and he had a feeling the young scientist wasn't much different.

Wandering the curtained hallways of the ground floor, he began calling out for her. He would've called for her sooner, but he'd only just remembered her name.

"Ms. Burkle?" he asked, shaking the curtain of an occupied room, then moving along with an apology when an unfamiliar voice answered.

Oh dear, he was never going to find her at this rate.