karma police, arrest this man, he talks in maths...
Who: Matt and Ukoku Sanzo
When: January 5; just after morning sirens
Where: fire escape outside the windows of apartments 808 and 810
Summary: a morning smoke after a long night without leads to some random conversation between next door neighbours
Warnings: none, I imagine
It had been a long night. A very very long night. Painfully long.
Matt wasn't exactly the type to go to bed early and rise with the sunrise, but he'd ended up sleeping for a good portion of the time between arriving at his apartment and the morning of the second day in this hellhole. It had taken a bit of time to recover from what was apparently his body's death withdrawals or something like that. Not that anyone was going to be finding out about his little slip-up and the resulting dozen gunshot wounds that coming to Siren's Port had mysteriously patched up. The pain had remained, but at least he wasn't dying. He just felt like he was.
When the morning sirens woke him up far too early on a Tuesday morning, Matt crawled out of the bed provided in the apartment, and stumbled his way to the fire escape, his hair a mess, dressed in his wrinkled red and black striped shirt and jeans. His eyes were bleary, he kind of had to piss, but there was nothing quite as important as the fact that it was now morning, and safe to smoke. And bloody hell did he need a smoke.
Unlocking the heavily barred and fortified window, he stumbled out in his sock feet and huddled up against the wall at the side of his window, the metal of the fire escape cold even through his socks, shivering slightly in the chilly morning air.
Lifting his pack of cigarettes to his mouth, he slid one out with his thumb, caught it between his lips, and tugged it free with a practiced movement of his head. Bringing his Zippo up, he flicked it to life and took that first, deliriously wonderful drag of the first cigarette after a long dry spell. Hooking his fingers against it, just below the filter, he pulled it free from his lips and exhaled the smoke into the air, admiring the patterns the orange glow of sunrise painted in it.
When: January 5; just after morning sirens
Where: fire escape outside the windows of apartments 808 and 810
Summary: a morning smoke after a long night without leads to some random conversation between next door neighbours
Warnings: none, I imagine
It had been a long night. A very very long night. Painfully long.
Matt wasn't exactly the type to go to bed early and rise with the sunrise, but he'd ended up sleeping for a good portion of the time between arriving at his apartment and the morning of the second day in this hellhole. It had taken a bit of time to recover from what was apparently his body's death withdrawals or something like that. Not that anyone was going to be finding out about his little slip-up and the resulting dozen gunshot wounds that coming to Siren's Port had mysteriously patched up. The pain had remained, but at least he wasn't dying. He just felt like he was.
When the morning sirens woke him up far too early on a Tuesday morning, Matt crawled out of the bed provided in the apartment, and stumbled his way to the fire escape, his hair a mess, dressed in his wrinkled red and black striped shirt and jeans. His eyes were bleary, he kind of had to piss, but there was nothing quite as important as the fact that it was now morning, and safe to smoke. And bloody hell did he need a smoke.
Unlocking the heavily barred and fortified window, he stumbled out in his sock feet and huddled up against the wall at the side of his window, the metal of the fire escape cold even through his socks, shivering slightly in the chilly morning air.
Lifting his pack of cigarettes to his mouth, he slid one out with his thumb, caught it between his lips, and tugged it free with a practiced movement of his head. Bringing his Zippo up, he flicked it to life and took that first, deliriously wonderful drag of the first cigarette after a long dry spell. Hooking his fingers against it, just below the filter, he pulled it free from his lips and exhaled the smoke into the air, admiring the patterns the orange glow of sunrise painted in it.