[ Fuck him, right? That about sums up his existence, from beginning to present.
Nevermind having no parents, no kin; nevermind spending all those years evading the state only to get caught and placed in housed living. Nevermind the scars he picked up from picking fights for no reason but needing a place to put his anger; nevermind the bills he's never going to be able to pay off; hell, nevermind the fact that he's homeless again after aging out of the system. It's where he wanted to be! It's fine! He has a second chance at life now, he is happy, he is going to find the silver lining to everything if it kills him!
But it's raining and he has no shelter and he's pretty sure the bag he keeps all of his worldly possessions in is getting soaked through, so fuck him.
Pete's mood is appropriately dour, he figures, commitment to the sunny side of life on hold when the sun is literally not out. Moreso when he gets jostled by the crowd; even moreso when he loses hold of his bag and it goes sailing into a puddle, ankle deep with how shitty the pavement upkeep is. He just stands there, shoulders slumped, a soft fuck me coming from under his breath.
And then, louder: ] Does nobody watch where they're going anymore?
[ Not that he's expecting a response. When people are this poor and desperate and crowded together shame kind of ceases to exist. But he took his moment for bitchiness, and now it's a moment for trying to reclaim his bag, see if anything can be salvaged from how soaked through it's gotten in the past few seconds. ]
candlestick —
Nevermind having no parents, no kin; nevermind spending all those years evading the state only to get caught and placed in housed living. Nevermind the scars he picked up from picking fights for no reason but needing a place to put his anger; nevermind the bills he's never going to be able to pay off; hell, nevermind the fact that he's homeless again after aging out of the system. It's where he wanted to be! It's fine! He has a second chance at life now, he is happy, he is going to find the silver lining to everything if it kills him!
But it's raining and he has no shelter and he's pretty sure the bag he keeps all of his worldly possessions in is getting soaked through, so fuck him.
Pete's mood is appropriately dour, he figures, commitment to the sunny side of life on hold when the sun is literally not out. Moreso when he gets jostled by the crowd; even moreso when he loses hold of his bag and it goes sailing into a puddle, ankle deep with how shitty the pavement upkeep is. He just stands there, shoulders slumped, a soft fuck me coming from under his breath.
And then, louder: ] Does nobody watch where they're going anymore?
[ Not that he's expecting a response. When people are this poor and desperate and crowded together shame kind of ceases to exist. But he took his moment for bitchiness, and now it's a moment for trying to reclaim his bag, see if anything can be salvaged from how soaked through it's gotten in the past few seconds. ]