Visiting hours [RL;open to all with access to Wayne Tower]
Thomas Elliot, looking unbelievablly like Bruce Wayne, sat on the edge of a queen sized bed in the penthouse of Wayne Tower. The day had been uneventful so far. Alf had brought him a change of clothes with breakfast, he ate, showered, and watched the morning news. He would've gone on the internet, but he knew that, like every other day, the only site he'd be able to see would be that useless duck community.
With the voices on the TV droning on unrecognized, Tommy cracked his knuckles restlessly. As a medical professional he found the term "cabin fever" to be quite ridiculous. Restlessness shouldn't be compared to an actual phsyiological condition. Still, there should be term for the utter boredom, frustration, and desperation Thomas currently felt.
A guttural moan from his abdominal cavity reminded him that it was nearing lunchtime. The most he could look forward to was a turkey sandwich in place of the usual ham. With a sigh, he gazed towards the glass wall, expecting Alf any second now.