Judas cracked his eyes open and glanced over in the direction of the glowing screen in the other end of the room. His roommate was still sitting there, studio earphones covering the bear’s ears, and he appeared to be nodding in time with the music, ocassionally humming along. Now and then he paused, cocking his head a fraction, and typed a few words’ worth or clicked the mouse; probably adjusting something about the piece he was working on.
Posts Tagged ‘Ian Sinclair’
Judas picked the farthest stall, hanging his towel on the peg across from it and slinking, tail low, behind the partition. His heart was beating against his ribcage as he fumbled with the taps, biting back a cry as ice-cold water rushed down over him. At least it didn’t take long to heat up, and once the water soaking into his fur wasn’t freezing, it wasn’t long until he stopped shivering. With a sigh, he planted his palms on the wall, tile on one side of him and the plastic-or-whatever-it-was partition on the other, and leaned.