The weekends generally don't come soon enough for the BSAA agent. Not that he doesn't love his job, or training-- he does. But he also has the habit of running himself ragged during the week and collapsing on Friday evenings. Emerging only the next afternoon with a stretch, yawn and bleary stare. Piers tries to be a good roommate, generally, he cooks on his days off, does some of the dishes and other chores. Spends a few hours on Saturday doing what he can to make the living arrangements more comfortable. He knows it isn't always easy if there's a mission to be had, arriving home in the early hours of the day, exhausted and dragging his work bag with. Sometimes the middle of the night. All in all he tries to be quiet, but it's never exactly a sure thing. Sometimes he's just too tired and ends up collapsed on the couch a lump of uniform and the weird knitted blanket Claire had given him as a "apartment-warming" present. It's kind of ugly, but thoughtful, so he keeps it.

Saturday evening has finally rolled around and he's tossed himself into a pair of  track pants, not that he plans on going running but they're more comfortable than jeans and he hasn't done his laundry yet so any semi-decent pajama pants are out of the question. A grey, mildly faded gym tee seems to fit with the general lazy look he's got on this afternoon. Planted on the floor near the couch a remote half dropped under the table, the absent hum of the television crawling through the house. He wasn't much of a tele person himself, but on occasion it was nice to just let his mind wander-- away from the missions and work.

Not to mention it gave him something to do while he waited for his cup of coffee to cool off.