DID. YE. SEE. THIS?! What the fuck's this supposed to be?" The rant rang through the dozing house, soaked the morning stillness with tension and even penetrated the cloak of concentration Jack had draped around himself. He slid the laptop from his thighs onto the low coffee table and glared at the half-formed algorithm on the screen. Something about it felt wrong, and he'd just caught the first faint glimpse of what it could be when the ranting voice had interrupted his thoughts. Growling quietly, Jack stretched his arms over his head and twisted from side to side until his back and neck responded with a satisfying crack. Ten o'clock was a ridiculously early hour to be awake, especially on a Sunday. Since he had made the effort to get out of bed at a time when most of his housemates had only just returned from a night out clubbing, he wanted to be left in peace to get some work done. The voices in the hallway – one obnoxious, loud and Irish, the other quiet and apologetic with a broad West Country accent – cut through Jack's focus and the level of venom in the Irish rant caught him by surprise.
