Tess

Jul. 7th, 2019 05:56 pm
cottoncandypink: (Default)
The door does not open up to the condo, unfortunately. Because Wilford has not been to the condo since the last time he brought someone through the door. It opens up from his office, into an area nebulously defined as a dining room.

At least, there is a table there, which someone has taken a passing effort to keep clear. The stack of mail, hastily picked up toys, and a couple of coats on the table suggest nobody does any eating at the table.

The house is what passes as small in the neighbourhood. Windows look out on the sloping hills and sprawling city in the distance. Inside, brushed steel kitchen, slate grey walls, and leather furniture are betrayed by tiny hand smudges on the windows, peanut butter stains in the carpet, crayon scribbles in places that nobody seems to have the energy to deal with.

The house is also unusually quiet. How interesting.
cottoncandypink: (Default)
Sometimes Wilford isn't really sure why he makes some of the decisions he does. There's the obvious answer, of course, which is that there is something fundamentally wrong with him. But he's already responsible for a couple of aliens squatting on his planet. He threw a party with a whole bunch of them. He's indirectly got another one killed right outside his restaurant. He might as well just go all in and consider hiring one.

Wait, no. He's done that already too. By that logic, there's absolutely nothing wrong with hanging around the bar, waiting to open the door back to the studio. In the mean time, he's enjoying a few child-free moments outside the workplace with his first cigarette in days.

Tess

Dec. 1st, 2018 08:35 pm
cottoncandypink: (Default)
The door opens to Wilford's dressing room. The blue walls are decorated with framed vintage movie posters, opening up for a vanity that doesn't look like it's been used since Wilford moved into the building. Along the exterior brick wall is where Wilford's set up his office, with a few shelves and filing cabinets behind the massive desk. The other side of the room is more of a lounge, with a black leather sofa and matching chair, and a smudged up glass coffee table that shows evidence of small, sticky hands.

Wilford closes the door behind them, only to open it again to reveal the large closet where he keeps several other guns. He stores the rifle in with the rest, making sure the door is locked so the nosy little toddler can't find his way in.

Beyond the door leading to the hall, people are obviously coming and going. Someone's having a heated argument, but the soundproofing in the building is heavy enough that nothing specific can be made out.

Now that there's signal, Wilford pulls out his phone to check the traffic report. Wilford sighs. "Someone dropped a yacht on the beltway," he says.

His phone isn't buzzing with missed texts though, so he's hoping it happened after Andy got past that point.

Profile

cottoncandypink: (Default)
Wilford Warfstache

Millicanon and Other Info

Other Characters

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Page generated Jul. 4th, 2025 09:44 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios