( as the minute hand reaches the quarter till mark for a second time, his patience is already wearing thin. when the hand reaches it for a third time, his blood begins to boil and he starts fidgeting in his chair, agitated. he wonders why he's here in the first place. "his items" — what the hell are they? he doesn't remember, so what's the point?
a voice quietly mutters besides him and, through the commotion and the noise of the waiting room, he's only just able to catch it. there's a sharpness in his tone, ) I better not! Or else I'll be forced to get comfortable. ( his idea of "comfortable" is undoing his robe and putting his feet up.
no subject
a voice quietly mutters besides him and, through the commotion and the noise of the waiting room, he's only just able to catch it. there's a sharpness in his tone, ) I better not! Or else I'll be forced to get comfortable. ( his idea of "comfortable" is undoing his robe and putting his feet up.
and he's not wearing any underwear. )