Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [08/19].

[howareyanow]

Yesterday had been completely spend appreciating the fact that Wayne had hands again that weren't C-sucking C-shaped, celebrating the fact that he could smoke and drink and shoot rifles again (though not necessarily in that order), as well as crossing his arms and nodding. He'd spent whole hours just standing there with his arms crossed and a dart hanging from his lips, and it was just about some of the best hours he'd had in what felt like too long a time.

He was a simple man, really; it didn't take much to make him happy, but at the very top of that list was Things Working as They're 'Exposed To, and he hadn't had nearly enough of that this summer.

And this morning? Breakfast. As it's exposed to be, with hands to make it with and internal organs to digest it with.

It didn't seem like the sort of thing that a person should be feeling so thankful for, but, sure as God's got sandals, this place made you really sorta appreciate the little things in life that most people just go and take for granted.

Like being able to cross your arms over your chest. Fuck, did that feel good.

[[ open common room is open! ]]