| 9:22a |
((Still getting the hang of this here business. Open to anyone))
[His body occupied most of the space in the doorway as he leaned against the frame of one of the many, many rooms he'd explored in search of a temporary home.
It wasn't much. In fact, most people would call it cold and impersonal. But the simple chrome walls of his room, the soft whirring of non-discript machinery, and the quiet glow of the faint, neon blue lights soothed him.
To most, it would have looked like something out of a futuristic Sci-fi movie, but it reminded Falcon of home.]
Ah, that's so much better. [he grinned, patting his full stomach, glad he finally found himself a good meal.]
I guess this place isn't so bad... And the company is ok.
Plus, I guess I was worrying myself over nothing with this 'time flow' thing. [He stood in repose a moment longer, before shrugging his thoughts off, deciding it best to retire to his room... Though he left his door open]
So, you're from the future. But the fact you're still alive now means you haven't done, and thus, will not do anything to screw up the timeline, right?
So go talk to someone! [he marched back towards the doorway, suddenly stopping just as he was about to cross the threshold.]
On second thought... Let's not rush into things.
Social phobias aren't cured in a day.
[He moved across to the cold, steel table in the centre of the room, pulling out the small console board hidden in his sleeve]
I miss Blue Falcon... Machines are so much easier to deal with than people...
[ He sat his oversized bulk in a far too small chair, slumping over and resting his arms on the table as he tapped at the console.]
Stop being such a pussy... [he scolded himself, staring at the picture of the vehicle displayed on the board.]
Just, get over it. Just talk to the next person who comes in. It can't be that hard, right?
((So, who's it going to be?)) |