That. Never. Ending. ITCH.
It was past that of midnight on a once Sunday evening now turned Monday morning. The dark and droll house was quiet all savor the clicking heels of a tall, well dressed, if not a bit loose, man. A bottle of olden scotch and no glass. The man was certainly on top of his own little world. His shoulder's rounded his tall form with a slight hunch. Glasses that sat at the bridge of his nose looked as if they were to fall off any second of his trot.
The steps were steady, like that of a pace. Every so often, the clicks of heels stopped, as if any sound would be distracting to the thoughts of this drunken man.
"Feh..!" The dark man scoffed to the air. There was no one here. No one to look at. No one to speak to. No one to taunt.
Well, there has always been one..
"You're awful quiet this evening, Tibenoch." The dark man mused before taking a strong swig from the bottle. There was no reply. No response at all. The dark man huffed a pout and waited a tad longer before speaking up once again. "I can feel you. Don't try and pretend. I know you're there." The silence continued still. The tall man raised his one free hand to his head, rubbing it with great discomfort.
A continuous irritation of the mind. Almost like a once gut feeling, scratching at his thoughts. Tibenoch... He was to blame. He was to blame for many. Their current situation. Being locked in this blasted house. There was no freedom for either of them! Suddenly, that itch clawed at the man's mind even more. "Arhh- what!? What is it?!" Hissed the tall man, well known in the workplace as Ples Tibenoch. His breathing had reached erratic notions as the itch cooled down a tad. "What?!" The man coldly whispered, looking over his shoulder at a nearby mirror.
"You think in such a manner that it's difficult to get some rest these days." A softer, but discomforted voice echoed out to Ples. Turning fully, he saw his reflection, though a bit altered. The shoulders were less square and his expression was far more sincere.
"You weren't sleeping!" Scoffed Ples.
"I was trying..!" The reflection retorted back. A collection of sighs followed before either one thought of speaking once more. "What is it you want?" Ples growled, glaring at the reflection and guzzling down more scotch, a drop or two meeting the wood floor at his feet. "Do try to avoid spilling. It took me weeks to get the stains off the carpet from last time.."
Feeling threatened, the reflection flinched before lowering it's gaze to what was the frame of said mirror. "I want silence." The being answered. "I would like to sleep. Please. I have work in the morning." The voice pleaded, worried about production and comfort for the day ahead.
Those square shoulders slowly slid out from their comfortable hunched poise. The bottle in his hand started to sway, circling the liquid that's left near the bottom. "What about me?" Stated the man.
"Wh-" "I said- what about me??" He repeated.
Silence filled the room once more. "Don't you start this with me." The reflection demanded. "I have enough to deal with during the day, but with your bickering and constant whining, I can't have one moment of peace. Not even sleep!" The reflection was on a roll. The man standing before the mirror felt instinct's desire to step back.
His odd brow quirked and a great itch of rage, Ples gently set the bottle aside to a neat by table. Glaring at the mirror continuously. "Fine." He simply stated. "It's not like anything was going on tonight, anyhow." His voice scratched and angered. He began his walk to the distant bedroom where he planned to try and sleep for the sake of his other half. Along the way, the reflection of the mirror stayed a tad longer to watch in observation before finally fading.
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