#palevurm03

[patiencethin]

   The crowd bumped him to-and-fro as Jacket tiredly trudged after PK, steadily grazing on a manapua bun he’d bought from a vendor. Eyes closed, he let the other lead him through the crowd, trusting in the hold on his sleeve to not smash him into a post and barely listening as PK talked.

   Hair a mess, clothes rumpled, he looked like he’d rolled out bed and he might as well have had done exactly that. It might’ve been about a week since he’d locked himself in his room, only the persistent knocking of the Pale Roach having pulled him out from under the covers and out the door for company through the changing city.

   Jacket winced at the sudden pop of fireworks. Not again. He glared at the horizon, the wistful hope that if looks could kill, he could simply make them stop happening just by looking a little pissed. At least until his eyes caught something. Another vendor, but something about him seemed... Familiar, in a nauseating way. Blonde hair under a green cap, a crooked smile. The eyes looked different, but it still struck him as far too--

   Was that Tony’s mask?

   A latex mask of a roaring tiger hung from the stall, empty eye sockets boring holes into his. No... Not Tony’s. Not exactly, but it was something far too similar to his. It hung in a crowd of old carnival masks, along with several other familiar things. Bottles, cards, tapes, gaming equipment, a zippo lighter, binders full of old photographs that lay open on the counter. He felt pressure on his sleeve; he was wandering again, but his feet had instinctively moved to bring him closer to the stall.

   One quick tug and he freed himself from the other grip to get closer still.

|| @palevurm || Closed Spiralefes Starter