by Jan
Author's notes: Totally pointless. But then, aren't they all?
Quatre studied Trowa's intent expression, illuminated by the soft glow from the computer screen.
A quick glance at his watch. If they leave now, they just might make it.
"Trowa, please, we are going to be late."
Trowa waved him off absently, "I'm almost done. Let me check the rest real quick and send this email."
"The rest?" Quatre's voice squeaked. "How many groups are you on?"
Trowa looked up over the monitor at him. "Ummm…76 I think, no 77."
Quatre shrugged off his dinner jacket and sat heavily in his chair, ruing the day his partner discovered mailing lists.