Got the Time?- OTA
Martini was in the rec room, with a chair pulled up to the ping pong table. He wasn't playing. Instead, every single watch he owned (and quite a few that belonged to his teammates) was spread out across the surface, each taken apart and spread out, with only the bare framework left intact. And not just the watches on his general person. Martini had gone through the compound, and had taken every single clock he could get his hands on. This was his peculiar fascination with clocks at its most eccentric. He had found a small pair of tweezers and a canister of air, though he couldn't remember where, and was carefully examining each wheel, cog, and spoke of his watches, cleaning each with a focus rarely seen in him. As he lifted his arm up, tweezers in hand to grasp a minscule piece of metal, he moved it back and forth slightly, feeling a peculiar lightness. It was very different without all the extra weight on it.
This was a yearly habit he had gotten into, ever since he had taken up his peculiar collecting of the timepieces. He flipped his left wrist over, tracing the skin, pale from the lack of sun that the watches blocked. It seemed like just yesterday since he had gotten the first one. For him, it practically was. Time was all relative in his mind, certain memories that happened years ago still bright as if they were only a few hours old. That had been a hard time for him. Experimental therapy plus solitary confinement would drive anyone loony. Fingers traces lightly over old scars before pulling up his sleeves. He turned his attention back to the various pieces scattered over the entire length of the ping pong table, marred only by the net dividing the middle. With all the wear and tear his watches tended to go through with their owner's tendency for trouble, the poor things needed a little TLC.
This was a yearly habit he had gotten into, ever since he had taken up his peculiar collecting of the timepieces. He flipped his left wrist over, tracing the skin, pale from the lack of sun that the watches blocked. It seemed like just yesterday since he had gotten the first one. For him, it practically was. Time was all relative in his mind, certain memories that happened years ago still bright as if they were only a few hours old. That had been a hard time for him. Experimental therapy plus solitary confinement would drive anyone loony. Fingers traces lightly over old scars before pulling up his sleeves. He turned his attention back to the various pieces scattered over the entire length of the ping pong table, marred only by the net dividing the middle. With all the wear and tear his watches tended to go through with their owner's tendency for trouble, the poor things needed a little TLC.