InsaneJournal

Reizo stalked down the hall.  Not that he was angry, or after anyone, it was just that stalking had become his normal mode of transport.  If his mood had the better of him he might have been skipping, or had a spring in his step, but it was all the better that he had such fierce control of them.  Reizo coming down the hall towards you with his shoulders hunched and his cigarette burning cancerously bright in the gloom of just after sunset was scary, but Reizo skipping towards you inflicted mild psychological trauma and stuck you with a psychiatrist bill.

Either way, there he was, the tall boy stalking down the hallway in a stereotypical mobster strut, in bright swimming trunks and one of the army of button-up white shirts he’d brought with him and never taken off.  Not in front of anyone, anyway.  It was probably a little foolish, trying to keep his tattoo secret, especially when the shirt he wore stuck so defiantly to his back and was thin enough for the colors of it to show through.  More so when everyone knew what he was, but he was stubborn.  At least he never tried to swim with his shirt on.

Not that he hadn’t enjoyed some time to himself in the sea away from prying eyes.  No, he’d spent more than enough time lazing around in the water, the screams of the other bozos off in the distance somewhere, far enough away to be washed out by the ebb and splash of the water.

He stopped at the largest window in the hallway and leaned out of it, letting the sea breeze blow across his face and snatch the smoke out of his mouth.  He grinned to himself around the cigarette. The day had been interesting, and fun in its own way, and he was very pleased with himself.

The only thing he wasn’t happy about was the people that would inevitably show up at his proverbial doorstep, wanting to have a word with him, and he hadn’t finagled with his story enough to get it quite perfect.

He pushed off the window with a sigh, took a drag off his dwindling cigarette, and set off down towards his room.