[as usual, Badou's fifteen minutes is more like twenty-five, and he shows up around then, door slamming open to reveal a dead-eyed (ha ha) Badou not-so-fresh from a three-job day that hasn't been made much better by the constant goddamn itching]
[as usual, two steps in the front door and he's already half out of his clothes, his sneakers banging against a wall (where, somehow despite the house's regenerative powers, a scruff is forming -- he's getting used to his schedule, maybe), socks and coffee-stained jeans leading a trail towards his bedroom]
[and he stands in the hallway, throwing that godawful brown coat, his hat, and his lighter (the important things) into his room, to rebound off the wall and land on the bed]
[rather than find Carol, he immediately makes his way to the bathroom, stands there in his boxers and t-shirt, and sticks his itchy head into the sink, turning it on full blast cold]
Re: text
[as usual, two steps in the front door and he's already half out of his clothes, his sneakers banging against a wall (where, somehow despite the house's regenerative powers, a scruff is forming -- he's getting used to his schedule, maybe), socks and coffee-stained jeans leading a trail towards his bedroom]
[and he stands in the hallway, throwing that godawful brown coat, his hat, and his lighter (the important things) into his room, to rebound off the wall and land on the bed]
[rather than find Carol, he immediately makes his way to the bathroom, stands there in his boxers and t-shirt, and sticks his itchy head into the sink, turning it on full blast cold]
Aaaaaaahahaaaa.