Ep. 0.5 - Cat's space - [Closed]
Jun 8, 2012 23:09:11 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jun 8, 2012 23:09:11 GMT -5
Nothing was quite as appreciated as the day after a long spell of working, an entire schedule cleared just to do absolutely nothing productive.
Well, Cleaver had finally told them to stop. So today, usual chores aside (chores that were usually finished quickly were now finished in RECORD time after that little incident), she'd let herself ease into her little shuttle, and close out the buzz by closing her doors.
The space was large (for her), and surprisingly cozy for what little work she's done to it herself the past few months. A bed, some fashioned chairs, monitors and her own mix humming and whirring constantly off to the side. Simple. Not for lack of cash or ability to go shopping, but preference. Whenever she wanted something new, she liked to make it. Liked the process, liked mapping it out, liked putting it together.
And at the moment, she had two projects. One for a rainy day (she'd forgotten how long the frame for that couch had been sitting there…), the other new. In rolled sweat pants and a tank she sat cross legged on the floor, looking over the amount of pictures covering the spaces from where she sat to her bed, of varying sizes and subject matter. New York. Italy. Family. Faces she hadn't seen in a while, some she wouldn't see for a while longer.
Phone calls couldn't cut it sometimes. Especially when half the things said were lies, if said at all.
Sighing she rested her chin on her knee, focusing on the light cast around the dim room from her screens, the music courtesy of Moonshot. 'Couch time.' She didn't feel like slowing down; not right now. Pressing a small remote tucked into the band of her pants, the music changed-- faster paced, springy, groove-inspiring.
"Now." She said aloud to the frame, head tilted and foot tapping to the beat. "How do I make your big ass comfy?"
Well, Cleaver had finally told them to stop. So today, usual chores aside (chores that were usually finished quickly were now finished in RECORD time after that little incident), she'd let herself ease into her little shuttle, and close out the buzz by closing her doors.
The space was large (for her), and surprisingly cozy for what little work she's done to it herself the past few months. A bed, some fashioned chairs, monitors and her own mix humming and whirring constantly off to the side. Simple. Not for lack of cash or ability to go shopping, but preference. Whenever she wanted something new, she liked to make it. Liked the process, liked mapping it out, liked putting it together.
And at the moment, she had two projects. One for a rainy day (she'd forgotten how long the frame for that couch had been sitting there…), the other new. In rolled sweat pants and a tank she sat cross legged on the floor, looking over the amount of pictures covering the spaces from where she sat to her bed, of varying sizes and subject matter. New York. Italy. Family. Faces she hadn't seen in a while, some she wouldn't see for a while longer.
Phone calls couldn't cut it sometimes. Especially when half the things said were lies, if said at all.
Sighing she rested her chin on her knee, focusing on the light cast around the dim room from her screens, the music courtesy of Moonshot. 'Couch time.' She didn't feel like slowing down; not right now. Pressing a small remote tucked into the band of her pants, the music changed-- faster paced, springy, groove-inspiring.
"Now." She said aloud to the frame, head tilted and foot tapping to the beat. "How do I make your big ass comfy?"