nathan hill (sweatband) wrote in playinghouse, @ 2012-09-03 23:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 01-11, nate |
idle hands
Who: Nate (solo)
Where: The rooms of: Camber, Lark, Lily, Delaney, Bryce, and Michael
When: Late afternoon and throughout the evening.
The day had been shit, if Nate did say so himself. Eating dinner with everyone the night before had been relatively painless, and definitely worth the minor discomfort just to eat the food, but he'd awoken to his year supply of cigs missing. That pissed him off for many reasons, one being that he'd spent a fucking ton of money on them, and another, that he currently needed a cigarette more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. And he'd needed one all damn day.
His frustration, paired with the humiliating fact that he'd really done nothing Experiment B-worthy thus far, drove Nate to hatch up a plan that was a little half-baked and extremely risky, but something he went through with in full nonetheless, late that afternoon. He would go around as sneakily as possible and try every single door in the house (barring any ExB's) to find one that was unlocked. Once he was sure the unlocked room was empty, he would invade it.
Nate didn't work methodologically, not really, as paranoia prevented him from staying in any one area - even one whole floor - for a prolonged period of time. Once he heard something, saw someone, and got spooked, he'd start his doorknob twisting somewhere else. If that meant he'd miss a room or two, so be it.
Lily's room received the 'disorganized venting' treatment. If he'd had a can of spray paint, which he sadly didn't, he would have scrawled bad words on her walls. Instead, he knocked everything off of the flat, exposed surfaces in her room (any dressers, tables and shelves), and stripped her bedsheets before tossing them into the bathtub, which he turned on and didn't turn off again before leaving. It occurred to him only then that whoever owned the room might think of it as some kind of personal hate crime, and as he slipped out the door, decided he might want to focus more specifically on messing with people's heads going forward.
That was why, in Delaney's room, Nate did nothing except steal every single pair of panties she owned.
The massage oils he found in Michael's room were also interesting. Nate sniffed all of them, pocketing the one he thought smelled the best. The rest, Nate carefully lined up outside of Michael's door, across the hall, and to Trix's room, though the trail stopped at her locked door.
Despite wanting to be speedy, Nate spent the most time in Camber's room, reading through her diary. He found a pen in her room and carefully wrote 'i can hear you.....' in shaky cursive writing disguised not to look like his own, right under the latest entry. As he snapped the book shut and put it into the place he'd originally found it, Nate felt uncertainty creep into his gut. Or maybe it was only the urge to eat, which he'd been battling all day. Either way, he solidly ignored it, and moved onto the next location.
Which just so happened to be Bryce's room. Nate glanced inside, then heard someone's voice coming from the sitting room and turned to flee, leaving the door wide open.
The last room was Lark's, which Nate knew immediately upon gazing into it. He stepped inside, standing at full attention as he soaked up the atmosphere. Nate had seen Lark's room on his computer monitor many times and at length. At first, he wasn't sure what to do; whether he wanted to spare her or go through every single thing she owned. It didn't take him too long to choose the latter, and anything that wasn't heavy was sorted through or moved. Nate took nothing, except, he hoped, Lark's sense of security.
Nate shut the last door behind him. His brain was urging him to go down to the kitchen to fill irrational cravings for carbohydrates and sugar, but only in between aching in its need for nicotine, so he chose to head upstairs to his room where he could be alone in his agony. Besides, he wanted to watch the reactions on camera if he could stay sane for that long. However, luckily, his shitty state of being didn't block out all feelings of accomplishment at what he'd just done. It was the first step in making his mark downstairs ... and far from the last.