status: closed for @scthcartcr
location: pmc club house
For the length of time he spends at the clubhouse, engaging in conversations and figuring out his next steps, he thinks it's not farfetched to call it a second home. A supposed form of comfort away from the almost sterile emptiness of his condo. The catch here is, if he could grasp what it means to have lax shoulders and unclenched hands. But he thinks at the least, he can enter the place without thinking of a sharpened blade shoving itself under his ribs, twisting and searing the organs underneath his skin.
He heads into the area in the early afternoon without expecting many people, thinking it time for most people to enjoy their time outside. A yawn slips through his mouth, barely concealed by his hand, as he enters through the door. "Oh." Eyes hook onto a familiar figure, the only other person lingering indoors, away from the coaxing brightness of the summer sun and the embracing heat. "I didn't expect to see another person around. Especially after yesterday." The late night fireworks celebrating the country's birthday is one that's hard to forget. Even while drinking. "Unless you had a peaceful day off?" He asks, making his way over to a free sit to settle himself down.












