[Those ten seconds may as well have been ten years as far as he was concerned. Nagi can hear Dist saying something to him while he works, but the meaning doesn't really register. What does ring clear, however, is his tone that carries a certain air of amusement that would have infuriated him if his focus wasn't currently elsewhere. Likewise, Kato's voice is lost as a distant buzzing as he types, jaw set and teeth gritted so hard his skull aches.
But he almost has it this time, he knows it. Just a few more-
That sickening blue screen flashes up so suddenly that it makes Nagi's eyes burn and his head swim. His hands skid off of the surface of the keyboard, one hand jostling the mouse. By the time he's righted himself the screen is back to normal, presenting him with an entirely new set of codes.
How long had that been? Surely less time than before. If he had just ten more seconds, he would have...could have...
Nagi sets back to work on the new codes with heavy hands, arms like lead and the icy stabs of panic threatening to overwhelm him as he types. How much time did he lose? One minute? Five? He feels body give a painful start every few times he blinks, fooled into thinking that the screen has changed blue again. It could at any second.
He gets halfway through, sweat rolling down the side of his face that he doesn't have time to wipe away. The code appears columns at a time in fierce relief against the dark screen, and-
There's an involuntary cry of dismay that Nagi just barely manages to bite back before it can tear from him to keep from making a sound. All he can do is stare at the blue screen with a thousand errors staring back at him just long enough for the failure to sink in before a fourth set of codes appears. Tick tock.
Again, Nagi's hands hover inches above the keyboard, fingertips twitching as if prepared to launch into the fourth attempt to crack the codes. At least they would, but they aren't. In fact, he isn't moving at all. He just sits there, glaring daggers at the screen as the text bar flashes impatiently back, as if he expects for his gaze alone to set the console on fire.
It should, but naturally, it isn't. And it never will.]
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But he almost has it this time, he knows it. Just a few more-
ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR
That sickening blue screen flashes up so suddenly that it makes Nagi's eyes burn and his head swim. His hands skid off of the surface of the keyboard, one hand jostling the mouse. By the time he's righted himself the screen is back to normal, presenting him with an entirely new set of codes.
How long had that been? Surely less time than before. If he had just ten more seconds, he would have...could have...
Nagi sets back to work on the new codes with heavy hands, arms like lead and the icy stabs of panic threatening to overwhelm him as he types. How much time did he lose? One minute? Five? He feels body give a painful start every few times he blinks, fooled into thinking that the screen has changed blue again. It could at any second.
He gets halfway through, sweat rolling down the side of his face that he doesn't have time to wipe away. The code appears columns at a time in fierce relief against the dark screen, and-
ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR
There's an involuntary cry of dismay that Nagi just barely manages to bite back before it can tear from him to keep from making a sound. All he can do is stare at the blue screen with a thousand errors staring back at him just long enough for the failure to sink in before a fourth set of codes appears. Tick tock.
Again, Nagi's hands hover inches above the keyboard, fingertips twitching as if prepared to launch into the fourth attempt to crack the codes. At least they would, but they aren't. In fact, he isn't moving at all. He just sits there, glaring daggers at the screen as the text bar flashes impatiently back, as if he expects for his gaze alone to set the console on fire.
It should, but naturally, it isn't. And it never will.]