Grencia Mars Elijah Guo Eckener (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jazzchagren) wrote, |
Gren carries the sax up to his room. He places it on the bed and looks around. There's a book on his nightstand that wants to be finished, but he's beginning to feel secloistered. He needs to go and at least take another walk. At least to clear his head and think of something else to do. He feels as if he's stagnating, which is the last thing he wants in this new place.
He ambles down the staircase, avoiding conversation with anyone who looks at him, and ducks out onto the porch. Lighting a cigarette, he tromps down the wooden steps, feeling a bit more jaunty than he should. The night air and the familiar feeling of smoke in his lungs rejuvenating him.
Some ways down the street there's a vaguely familiar outline. He feels like he's met the man before, but it was most likely during that flurry of meetings at the beginning and he just can't place his name. He pushes one hand down in his pocket and starts his walk off in that direction.
He ambles down the staircase, avoiding conversation with anyone who looks at him, and ducks out onto the porch. Lighting a cigarette, he tromps down the wooden steps, feeling a bit more jaunty than he should. The night air and the familiar feeling of smoke in his lungs rejuvenating him.
Some ways down the street there's a vaguely familiar outline. He feels like he's met the man before, but it was most likely during that flurry of meetings at the beginning and he just can't place his name. He pushes one hand down in his pocket and starts his walk off in that direction.