charls is a job juggler (arithmetician) wrote in willowbrookrpg, @ 2014-03-18 23:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | !thread, charls goodwyn, day: december 08, isaiah robinson, player: liv, player: rae |
[syn]
Who: Charls Goodwyn + Isaiah Robinson
What: Exercising in the gym. Exercising his fingers, that is.
When: Morning of Sunday, December 8
Where: Gym
Rating: tbd
Status: tbd
While half the building may still be stuck in bed like a terrible vice, with every credit to be given to the combination of rain and a weekend, the same could not be said of Charls.
No, had this been any other Sunday, he might have relished on the liberty to extend his sleep for at least a few more minutes. A tiny, tiny luxury to many, maybe, but to Charls that would be enough. That Sunday, though, he couldn't even allow himself that much. At the crack of morning...which was a little hard to define given all the rain and clouds, he got up, washed, dressed, made a beeline to the coffee lounge and brewed himself a giant cup of hard black. After that, Charls disappeared from the face of the tower. Typical, to a degree.
Not typical, though, was the hole he had hid himself in. Because while normally, he might be found shut up in his room or sealed in the IT room, early morning exercisers might be surprised to see him sat at the far corner of the gym, cross-legged on the floor, a laptop in front of him, two tablets and his tall cup beside him. People might have tried to said hi if the odd fixture just didn't unnerve them and Charls never bothered either, just typing away, just sipping.
He couldn't have helped it even if he wanted to. Two years of being a Syndicate had taught him that the gym was one of the warmest places during a cold rainy morning and if he could ever hope to accomplish anything that day, he would have to stick to a place where he could feel human. Dampness and the weather, after all, were not excuses anyone could tell Blair especially if he had a special assignment pending for results.
So there sat Charls -- typing, sweeping at screens, and sipping his coffee, ignoring the few people who passed him on their way to their Sunday morning routine. He was actually counting on the weather to drive a lot of them away and so far, his theory was sound.