Househunting [OPEN THREAD]
WHO: Johnny and anyone else who wanders in on him.
WHAT: Johnny finds a place to live.
WHERE: At the end of a long street made up mostly of housing.
WHEN: Around sunset.
Johnny C. sighed as he exited the house. Yet another that would not suffice, and he'd been so excited when he saw the cellar door, too. He walked down the next foot or so of road, approached the next house, which happened to be the last one on the street. Outside, it was actually not so different from the one he had lived in before - minus the rickety old garage, and the boards nailed across the windows. It also had an actual grass lawn, something Johnny had never bothered with before (he remembered the "Keep Off Loose Soil" sign in his old yard with fondness). And there was a tree next to it. The house itself was fairly square and looked to have just one storey, plus, there was a triangular, slanted offshoot to the side of the building. Another house with a cellar! From outside, it looked perfect. Johnny grinned.
He walked up to the house and went inside, leaving the door wide open behind him. Because it was evening, only dim light made it through the paned windows and the open door, but Johnny didn't mind. He looked around - he appeared to be standing in a sort of living room, but there was no furniture to really determine that. Several feet ahead he could see a doorway, which he assumed led to a kitchen, since he could make out the outlines of a row of wooden cupboards in the dim light. To his right, he saw an actual door. He saunted over and, twisting the handle, pushed it open. It creaked as it swung open to reveal a small, square room with a single window. There was another door that led to what Johnny suspected was a bedroom, and up against the far wall was a yellowing, moth-eaten mattress. Not particularily pleasant, but it would suffice. Maybe he'd treat himself to some blankets and a pillow if he could find one - it didn't really matter, since Johnny rarely slept, doing so only for a few hours at a time, each sleeping session several days apart. It seemed such a waste, under his circumstances, to even have a bedroom - a room dedicated entirely to sleep. He was sure, though, that he would find another use for it. He could be quite resourceful.
Johnny exited the bedroom, walked through the living room, and into the kitchen, though he did not stay there long. He cast a quick glance around and was somewhat pleased to see it had some furniture aside from the cupboards that covered the back wall. There was a small table and a lone chair in the corner, and there was a stove and a sink as well. The table and chair were made from rickety old wood, but so was most of the house, and Johnny was more than content with that. He didn't care what his house looked like. A house, to him, served two purposes - to be his sanctuary, and his ... studio. Nothing more.
In each of the back corners there was something in the kitchen that caught his eye. Across from the table was a ladder, leading upwards - presumably to an attic. On the other side of the room, there was a stairwell, curving down. It must lead to the cellar.
Grinning like a cat, he rushed down the stairs, eager to see the cellar. When he got there, it was extremely dark, but his eyes adjusted well enough for him to see that, although it was empty, and he pined for the contraptions he had left behind (they made things so much more interesting) - it was gigantic. And even if it was only one level, he could always construct more on his own...
Johnny began to snicker, and then to laugh maniacally, a sound that certainly reverberated throughout the entire house.
WHAT: Johnny finds a place to live.
WHERE: At the end of a long street made up mostly of housing.
WHEN: Around sunset.
Johnny C. sighed as he exited the house. Yet another that would not suffice, and he'd been so excited when he saw the cellar door, too. He walked down the next foot or so of road, approached the next house, which happened to be the last one on the street. Outside, it was actually not so different from the one he had lived in before - minus the rickety old garage, and the boards nailed across the windows. It also had an actual grass lawn, something Johnny had never bothered with before (he remembered the "Keep Off Loose Soil" sign in his old yard with fondness). And there was a tree next to it. The house itself was fairly square and looked to have just one storey, plus, there was a triangular, slanted offshoot to the side of the building. Another house with a cellar! From outside, it looked perfect. Johnny grinned.
He walked up to the house and went inside, leaving the door wide open behind him. Because it was evening, only dim light made it through the paned windows and the open door, but Johnny didn't mind. He looked around - he appeared to be standing in a sort of living room, but there was no furniture to really determine that. Several feet ahead he could see a doorway, which he assumed led to a kitchen, since he could make out the outlines of a row of wooden cupboards in the dim light. To his right, he saw an actual door. He saunted over and, twisting the handle, pushed it open. It creaked as it swung open to reveal a small, square room with a single window. There was another door that led to what Johnny suspected was a bedroom, and up against the far wall was a yellowing, moth-eaten mattress. Not particularily pleasant, but it would suffice. Maybe he'd treat himself to some blankets and a pillow if he could find one - it didn't really matter, since Johnny rarely slept, doing so only for a few hours at a time, each sleeping session several days apart. It seemed such a waste, under his circumstances, to even have a bedroom - a room dedicated entirely to sleep. He was sure, though, that he would find another use for it. He could be quite resourceful.
Johnny exited the bedroom, walked through the living room, and into the kitchen, though he did not stay there long. He cast a quick glance around and was somewhat pleased to see it had some furniture aside from the cupboards that covered the back wall. There was a small table and a lone chair in the corner, and there was a stove and a sink as well. The table and chair were made from rickety old wood, but so was most of the house, and Johnny was more than content with that. He didn't care what his house looked like. A house, to him, served two purposes - to be his sanctuary, and his ... studio. Nothing more.
In each of the back corners there was something in the kitchen that caught his eye. Across from the table was a ladder, leading upwards - presumably to an attic. On the other side of the room, there was a stairwell, curving down. It must lead to the cellar.
Grinning like a cat, he rushed down the stairs, eager to see the cellar. When he got there, it was extremely dark, but his eyes adjusted well enough for him to see that, although it was empty, and he pined for the contraptions he had left behind (they made things so much more interesting) - it was gigantic. And even if it was only one level, he could always construct more on his own...
Johnny began to snicker, and then to laugh maniacally, a sound that certainly reverberated throughout the entire house.