freaksnmaggots (freaksnmaggots) wrote in playinghouse, @ 2012-06-04 21:20:00 |
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Current mood: | curious |
Entry tags: | 01-08, abel, bryce |
99 problems but work ain't one
Who: Abel and open
Where: First Floor
When: around 5pm
The room he woke up in was really nice. Just the way he liked it, and that was quite something. It wasn't a bedroom most people would feel inclined to come visit and that was just perfect. Pictures of creepy children with blood smeared faces apparently weren't everyone's thing. There were skulls everywhere, weird masks and figurines that kept him occupied for a while. Abel liked a great entrance so he wasn't too worried about meeting his housemates just yet, he inspected his room and the adjoining bathroom before taking some time to look through his things he had brought with him. He was surprised to find that even his little collection of substances had gotten through. Who knew what he would need them for? And his tattoo guns had survived the journey. Abel was treating them like they were family - well, not quite. Lovers, maybe. They were more than just tools to him and he made sure that they were stowed away securely, he doubted he could get any replacements in here. It was unusual, waking up knowing that he didn't have to work for an entire year. Sometimes he took a day off if he wanted to party, he took work serious enough that he would never touch a client with a massive hangover. But no work? What was he even supposed to do? Something he probably should have thought about before he signed up for this.
First impressions were his forte and he pondered what he should wear, right after sorting his wardrobe into the closet. Although he was far from a neat freak he liked things organized when it came to his closet, and he spent some time lying on his back, head hanging over the edge of the mattress, looking at his clothes upside down. Walking cliche in black leather, maybe a suit? In the end he decided to be a little casual, black jeans skillfully torn by little kids in the third world for some designer, and a grey cashmere sweater with a deep v-neck. Deep enough to show the biohazard tattoo on his chest.
Abel grabbed his iPod and left the room barefoot. Too bad that he couldn't play the music loud, it was always better to have people hear your current theme song. He hummed along to the Pointer Sisters, who were just as excited as he was. Every picture he walked by on the first floor he tipped to one side, briefly contemplating to turn them upside down or facing the walls. Maybe another time. For now he had a great time turning things around here and there. Small things, but hey. He regretted not bringing a few spray cans with him, once it got warmer the outer walls would be such a great canvas. Abel had read all about the little get together some of the people had right now, but he didn't feel like eating, cooking and all of that right now. Instead he tried a few doors, most of them were locked or the rooms were empty, it seemed like most people were in the kitchen right then. Too bad, he'd have to come back later.
Looking around he stopped right in front of the stairs. Up? Down? He couldn't decide. And he never had a coin on himself when he needed one! Something told him that he could most likely find booze downstairs. And he could have a long overdue smoke. But maybe there were more people upstairs. Decisions, decisions. Finally he lit a cigarette, stuck it into the corner of his mouth and mounted the banister, ready to slide down to the ground floor.