2019-05-08 - Home Sweet Home

Home.

Home?

Well, the town's where he started, right? And the trailer's where he's got the keys. That makes it home, yeah? So... home.

Aidan stands in the middle of the trailer, as middle as he can figure at least, and turns around, taking it all in. The dingy carpet. The walls it feels like he could practically touch all at once if he stretched enough. The broken miniblinds. The weird stains that somehow ended up on the ceiling. He grins, suddenly. How do you even manage to stain a ceiling? Generally, anyway; he remembers how some people he's known managed it...

The grin fades, and he studies the stains again, walking along beneath them, focus upward. Bumps right into the counter, a mumbled "Sorry," slipping out right along with the wince. It starts to turn into a muffled laugh at himself, just before his expression darkens, and he shoots a glare off to one side. "You fuck off," he snaps at nothing visible, then sighs, running a hand through his curls, as he moves out of the way of the peninsula and on into the living room, studying the ceiling again.

"Nah. It's probably, like, water damage or something." He closes his eyes a moment, shaking his head. "We're not gonna do this. It's fine. Fuck, it's great. Fireplace and everything." A pause; a shrug. "Gas fire's still fire... No, I'm not gonna, fuck off."

When did he even last have a place of his own? A proper place? That studio, probably... what is that, four years ago now? Five? Shit. Must be seven if we're talking somewhere no one else was crashing... A smile, though it fades again. Just him and the dead asshole, now. Okay, yeah, he's gonna have to go meet the neighbours, or he really will go nuts. Like, proper nuts. He grins again, suddenly. "Nothing here for you to fuck with yet," he observes a bit smugly, "You gotta be hatin' that." The miniblind beside him jiggles discordantly; he just smirks, and looks a little bit more cheerful as he continues the inspection of the ceiling, humming somewhat tunelessly under his breath.

A turn, at the wall, pacing in even steps back down the spine of the place, into the bedroom at the end, and across that. More focus in it than one might expect, half-audible counting of each step. Nothing in any room, yet. His lips purse briefly, and he nods, hands on his hips. "Okay. I need... stuff. Hangers. A toaster. Something to sleep on. Oh, food." A glance at the walls, in their drab but mostly unobjectionable off-white, and he nods again. "Paint."

This decided, he strides back toward the door outside, stopping halfway through it to turn around and survey his new castle again, the sunny grin breaking free. "This is gonna be awesome," he declares to the world at large, and continues to the van, off into town, to run that errand or three.

And when he's done, he comes home.