The Endymion scientist sat in her chair, her legs on her desk.

She wrote in her personal journal— both a culmination of a diary and actual comprehensive information.

It wasn’t necessarily the most uplifting thing when she had to show status reports with sketches of herself off to the side. Oddly enough, the smartest woman in the universe’s thoughts were messier than a pig sty.

Yes, that’s a parka. It’s damned cold in here.

..I need a haircut.

She scribbled in, after sketching a self portrait, on the damp yellowish page. The threaded a hand through her ebony hair, eyes scanning her own face in the mirror beside her, then giving herself an eyeroll, and covering it.

She had better things to do than sit around and twiddle her thumbs.. but..

Peace and quiet… that’s something she loves— even with her cold, apathetically driven heart.