✘ now that drunk-tank in atlanta
As interesting as the Temple of the Flaming Space Nuns is, some folks just aren't all that religious (despite due respect, on certain terms), and Aldo Raine has taken his leave and returned to the decidedly no less lurid but far more real-world resembling carnival. It's still a little loud and headache-inducing for his personal tastes, but carnivals are particular in that they always tend to look sort of the same no matter what day and age they sprawl around in, and this is no exception.
He's sitting at a table under a lattice wood overhang near the rodeo (which is currently not going on) and across from some games; it's the closest to a quiet corner that exists, and as such, is still wedged halfway into chaos. Chaos is comforting to some people, particularly people who look somewhat like they've crawled out of your grandfather's basement and killed sixteen people. It's not an aesthetic that one would expect to find alongside a laptop, a plate of Mexican funnel cake, a bottle of something wrapped in a brown paper bag, and an iPhone. And yet.
... He looks a bit like he's going to shoot the damn laptop in a minute here, anyway.