They woke up late, well after the sun had risen, well after the people of the city below scuttled around in their day to day. The hulk moved slowly, in its own time, but its sophisticated gearing and wiring it needed created the need for their job - four people, up in what amounted to a high rise. But somehow, working the machinery of a vast, moving, walking tower still reduced down to being a dull system administrator job. Someone had to code, someone had to archive, and someones had to move around repairing physical machinery. 

Some nights were dull, those when they all had to go to specialised workstations inside the hulk. Some nights weren't so bad, though. The nights where she got the coding done well, and there was no dreadful sound that pulled them away to work the machinery and left her alone with the terminal, nights when the archives hummed and she sat quietly in her chair, wheeling it back - and heading down to the common room. The wheelchair wasn't necessary, but it meant she didn't have to walk on legs that she couldn't afford to replace, just yet.

Most of those nights, they ordered pizza. 

Sitting on the sofa, playing videogames and reading. That was the other thing. Usually, if she wanted to play, she'd sit there with the controller in hand, and he'd sit on one side and she'd sit on the other side, and they'd sit on the floor next to her and they'd talk about the game and they'd have pizza and they'd laugh and nobody would fight her for the control and sometimes he'd read out a passage from that latest awful fucking book he was reading for his course, and she'd giggle fiddling with the chiptune device, and someone would get blown or fingered or whatever and then they'd be back to the game, a giggle from someone if they missed licking up a spot.

And now she was waking up, as the top ceiling port flickered on - responding to the sensors on the top of the hulk that showed the sun was high overhead. /Time to wake/, a little bit. And the tingle in her paws, and the swirl of her tail, the need to stretch... But there were arms around her. Tangles of arms and legs. Someone'd been fucking when she'd fallen asleep - and when they were done, they'd pulled her back into the pile, cuddling her close.

And now she was waking up in it, someone's arms around her shoulders, someone else's head resting on her thigh, a chorus of soft squeaks as she woke, and someone murmuring out the question... "Mnh... g'morning? Y'okay?"

Because they cared.