Andrea stretches her arms up over her head and leans back in her chair with an exhausted sigh. She glances over at the clock: 12 AM. Immediately regretting her decision to check at all, she rubs her face in an attempt to will the exhaustion away. When that fails, she decides another cup of coffee would be fine. Standing up now, she takes a moment to stare at her office window, watching droplets of rain patter and roll down it while making a bet with herself on which droplet will reach the bottom of the glass first. She grabs her empty, lipstick-stained mug, and that's when she hears it.

Pausing and straining her ears to listen, there's nothing. Until—

Shuffle. Shuffle.

Thud.

Shuffle. Shuffle.

Andrea watches the door, her grip tightening on the mug. She sees only one explanation for the odd noises: an absolute psychopath in the building. If it's not someone about to try and murder her, it's someone working overtime for which they will absolutely not be adequately paid. So, a psychopath. For a moment she wonders if a mug might be enough to cause some serious blunt force trauma. Deciding it very well might be in her hands, she approaches the door. The sounds of the rain and the repeated pattern of Shuffle. Thud. Shuffle. are the only things backing the tense moment.

Flinging open the office door, she does not see a knife-wielding maniac or someone she would normally consider a psychopath. She sees a co-worker she remembers leaving earlier, someone she'd had a forced conversation with about the weather when they were clocking out. Andrea is about to call out but pauses to watch just what they're doing. They're by their cubicle, shifting something under their desk around in frantic, jerky movements. Shuffle. As they back up to grab something, they kick their chair. Thud. Before moving something under the desk around again. Shuffle.

Andrea silently creeps up behind them, making it a point to go unnoticed for now. When she finally gets close enough, she sees in full detail just what they're arranging and rearranging. Now, Andrea might not exactly be in tune with her alpha nature, and she might not care very much for omegas. But she's not stupid. She knows a nest when she sees one. Even if it's half assembled. Are those bed sheets? Did they go home just to get nesting material and come back? Andrea couldn't fathom what on Earth would make an omega think their cubicle is a safe nesting space, but Andrea certainly doesn't think it is. That, combined with her feelings for them leads to her decision. A decision that, in any other situation, she would never even think of making. But for them? She'd do just about anything.

Clearing her throat quietly to alert them to her presence without startling them, she crouches just a few feet away from their figure, huddled under their desk. "I don't think this is the best spot for...that." She gestures vaguely to what is, let's face it, a very poorly assembled nest. "My office is bigger. More private. I'll help you move your things."