The train sucks, but he's been to worse parties. Loud and chaotic, smelling of sweat and rust and bad attitudes. He doesn't really wonder how he got there. The Darkness sticks him wherever it wants, it's whatever. You get used to it.
It's when the train stops that his face almost falls, lips curling in disgust. Desert. Heat. SUN. His arm immediately raises to shield his dark eyes as he is fairly pushed out the door of the car, cringing under the light of both suns. He looks down at himself and realizes that his nicely tailored suit is suddenly looking haggard, his dress shoes replaced with boots. Ugh, he feels so...less than stylish. Gross.
"Hell. This is hell," he just about whines, immediately staggering over towards the nearest shade like a man with the worst hangover in the world.
Inside Haven
Inside the Abandoned Mall, there is the loud crack of wood splintering and glass shattering. Mister Scratch is passing the daytime by entertaining himself in a way that always works, no matter where he is - breaking shit.
So that's why he's riding on top of his little folding scooter, holding the broken-off handle of a rotting baseball bat he had found a few minutes before. He hucks it through the shattered storefront window with a gleeful shout, dipping down to scoop up a hunk of rubble as he rolls further down the way.
He puts a foot down to pick up speed, holding on to only one handlebar. He spots a mannequin, standing crooked on its stand. His arm rears back, and he throws -
And he misses. The rubble clatters to the ground.
He flips the mannequin off and a beat later it's wreathed in shadows, throwing itself to the ground.
After Dark
FINALLY, nightfall. His time. Fairly skipping out from the mall, he's ready to be in his element, out in the dark night. A deep breath of cool air, a little spin,
When he sees the lights in the sky, however, he doesn't wear the same relaxed expression as most do. He looks almost disgusted at the trails of color shining up there, lip curled, nose wrinkled like he just stepped on a slug.
Mister Scratch | Alan Wake
The train sucks, but he's been to worse parties. Loud and chaotic, smelling of sweat and rust and bad attitudes. He doesn't really wonder how he got there. The Darkness sticks him wherever it wants, it's whatever. You get used to it.
It's when the train stops that his face almost falls, lips curling in disgust. Desert. Heat. SUN. His arm immediately raises to shield his dark eyes as he is fairly pushed out the door of the car, cringing under the light of both suns. He looks down at himself and realizes that his nicely tailored suit is suddenly looking haggard, his dress shoes replaced with boots. Ugh, he feels so...less than stylish. Gross.
"Hell. This is hell," he just about whines, immediately staggering over towards the nearest shade like a man with the worst hangover in the world.
Inside Haven
Inside the Abandoned Mall, there is the loud crack of wood splintering and glass shattering. Mister Scratch is passing the daytime by entertaining himself in a way that always works, no matter where he is - breaking shit.
So that's why he's riding on top of his little folding scooter, holding the broken-off handle of a rotting baseball bat he had found a few minutes before. He hucks it through the shattered storefront window with a gleeful shout, dipping down to scoop up a hunk of rubble as he rolls further down the way.
He puts a foot down to pick up speed, holding on to only one handlebar. He spots a mannequin, standing crooked on its stand. His arm rears back, and he throws -
And he misses. The rubble clatters to the ground.
He flips the mannequin off and a beat later it's wreathed in shadows, throwing itself to the ground.
After Dark
FINALLY, nightfall. His time. Fairly skipping out from the mall, he's ready to be in his element, out in the dark night. A deep breath of cool air, a little spin,
When he sees the lights in the sky, however, he doesn't wear the same relaxed expression as most do. He looks almost disgusted at the trails of color shining up there, lip curled, nose wrinkled like he just stepped on a slug.
"What the hell is this?"
At least there's no moon, but - oh come ON.
Wildcard
Invent a scenario! He'll be there.