He walks into his homely apartment, a sudden rush of contentment washing over him as he locks the door behind him. It wasn’t much, but it was his little escape. Aside from the casino, it’s his favorite place to be. It was his place, a small home he’d built all on his own, from basically nothing. The small windows let in the perfect amount of sunlight, there’s a small succulent trying it’s damnedest to bloom, but the leaves are turning a slight brown and Atlas is positive it’s got DAYS before it meets the same fate as all the other plants he’s attempted to keep alive {mostly gifts from his sister, he’s never had a green thumb.}
“You an’ me both lil guy.” He says with an amount of sympathy he doesn’t even show other human beings most of the time. Heated cup of ramen in one hand, bottle of cheap liquor in the other. It’s been a long day, he’s still got speckles of blood on his t-shirt. He catches the glimpse of a tattoo that’s a simple uno card and he chuckles to himself because he can’t QUITE remember why it’s there. probably to cheat at a game at some point, who knows.
His tv is out of order, it’a tiny cheap model he stole back when he first moved in. It’s only getting about three channels right now, one is some weird game show that he’s starting to actually get addicted to, and some overly wild drama he unintentionally got wrapped in. he’s rooting for the girl with dark hair, she just needs to kick this man’s ass already. The game show wins this evening, and within the next few minutes he’s shouting his own answers to guessing other people’s quirks.
His phone lights up, a text from one of his american buddies that he ignores because for some reason, this is just way more important to him. He glances at the clock again and it’s been a whole two hours, a text from his sister reminding him to eat. He’s BORED now, officially night time, he can tell because the moon looks amazing through his window.
“Borin’ as fuck.” Mutter under his breath. “Bored as hell, what about you Jupiter?” Golden eyes glance towards the mini succulent. No response, he laughs at himself. “That’s what I figured.” He stands, arms stretching over his head before exchanging a small pistol stored on the side of his arm for one of his lucky switchblade before grabbing the nearest jacket.
“Goin’ to go out, cause some hero some trouble or somethin’.” He says to no one in particular. “SOMEONE some trouble.” Atlas turns to the plant again, pointing to it as if he’s warning a child, or a pet.
“You behave yourself while i’m out.”
He shuts the door behind him, a deep breath of fresh air before sending a text to a few of his other friends.
[where’s the party at?]