(Vaguely) Open
Feb. 14th, 2009 04:46 pmThe evening's unseasonably warm, the low, grim clouds folding over the Mansion like a thick quilt. John stands on the porch with his elbows on the rail; the wind cuts through his thin outer shirt on occasion, but for the most part he's comfortable, content.
He has a cigarette in his hand, as comfortably held as though he'd never gone without. Against the failing light, he breathes out smoke.
He has a cigarette in his hand, as comfortably held as though he'd never gone without. Against the failing light, he breathes out smoke.
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