(no subject)
[In this sitting room, there is an odd Tyki reclining on a couch, looking as if he's recently been asleep. He's inspecting a DR pamphlet idly, smoking, and looking terribly unimpressed. A laptop is discarded on a nearby table, and he has aviator goggles slung around his neck. The observant might notice the gun in his jacket pocket.]
Goddamn. It didn't work.
[The thing perched on his head shifts its limbs a little in agreement.]
Goddamn. It didn't work.
[The thing perched on his head shifts its limbs a little in agreement.]
