1st Floor Rec Room, Friday Morning
Some days, you just couldn't be bothered to get out of bed.
For Atton, today wasn't one of those days, but it was pretty damned close. He'd managed to drag his ass downstairs from his bedroom, just far enough to reach the rec room, jam an MP3 player into some audio speakers and flop back on the couch.
He was still there an hour later.
By now, the MP3 player had switched over to the mellow tones of the Rolling Stones' 'Paint It Black'. Atton was nodding along, muttering the lyrics under his breath, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his eyes fixed on the television.
(A television which was, for the record, off. There was probably some symbolic meaning to that, but Atton couldn't be bothered to figure that one out either.)
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For Atton, today wasn't one of those days, but it was pretty damned close. He'd managed to drag his ass downstairs from his bedroom, just far enough to reach the rec room, jam an MP3 player into some audio speakers and flop back on the couch.
He was still there an hour later.
By now, the MP3 player had switched over to the mellow tones of the Rolling Stones' 'Paint It Black'. Atton was nodding along, muttering the lyrics under his breath, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his eyes fixed on the television.
(A television which was, for the record, off. There was probably some symbolic meaning to that, but Atton couldn't be bothered to figure that one out either.)
[[ open! ]]