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The light was singing love songs to him,sweet gramophones of mulled wine whirling round the needle, it was a melody he had known off by heart, but words had escaped him and there was only the shape of the notes, the swell of a strain, crescendoing, faster and faster [break][break]

He woke, sounds and lights filtered cheaply like a thrice used sieve shook by a child. Alarm crossed the jester’s face briefly before vanishing, like an amateur magician before his first performance. Theo tugged at the tail strand of his bangs. He had dozed off? How? Too many shows, too many crowds to please, illusions to create and maintain. too many mouths to feed, and hands which reach towards him only to pull back midway through a sentence. It was late, late enough for starshow’s usual cacophony to quieten down to a background dim. Eh, so it was that time of the night huh. How long had he been asleep for? 1 hour, 2? Who knew, time never measured itself by the clock here anyways, seconds fell into fragmented slots marked by the exchange of paper notes, hours broadening into bright lights and smiles so big they appear more on the brink of breaking than anything else. This was, of course, not exactly a common spot for people to gather, Theo stared with a half amused smile at the shadow castes by the giant bin looming over his face. No, no indeed, he doubt many liked to fall asleep behind a bin.[break][break]

He didn't really how he had ended up behind the bin, not that it mattered he had fallen asleep in worse places and wounded up with consequences far more severe than smelling like a piece of trash. He was already, a piece of trash anyways so it didn't matter. Moments of these, he detested, it was better to don a mask and morph himself into a scripted role. It was easier to pretend, to change the syntactic construction of himself, rearranging words, and sounds to create an illusory sense of control. Better to hide than to see what's really there.

“Alright, enough emoness.” Theo straightened his jacket, fixed a smirk onto his lips and jumped up abruptly, only to be greeted by the familiar sounds of glass breaking, the delicate crack of a whole as it fissures apart, heralding its eventual doom. He had vials in his lap. When? These weren't his most tame concoctions either evidently, as mere seconds later bubblegum pink smoke erupted into his face. Coughing violently, he stumbled forward to escape the cloud only to crash into another warm fleshed thing. [break][break]

A very pissed female warm fleshed thing it appears. Theo appraised her for a few seconds, deemed her no harm and also not worth his time. “You’re welcome, keep the change.” Was what he threw over his shoulder as he sauntered off, hands in his pockets, the very picture of a soi-disant asshole. [break][break]

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word count: 495 [break][break]saoirse ó floinn