Helping Out → Tommy and Jane.
Standing tall, Thomas' emerald hues surveyed the living room. Clean, dusted, tidy. The fort Teddy had built him was still propped up, permanently, in the middle of the empty space between the invisible separation of the lounging area and attached kitchen, and in the corner, just behind him, sat the television -- playing to itself. Any moment now, Tom was expecting a knock on the door, signalling promised company of his friend, Jane, who he'd recently learned had burnt her hand after accidentally setting fire to her bedsheets. It was a silly thing to hear, and almost had him laughing, until concern slapped him across the face, and he was immediately wondering if the poor girl was alright.
Walking through the living room, curls bouncing about his heated face, Thomas stopped to glance over his reflection; black skinnies, a stretched vest and a pair of his favourite 'The Simpsons' socks. Simple enough. Journeying into the kitchen, the boy didn't hesitate to pull open the fridge and grab the bowl of wobbling, red jelly, dimples poking his cheeks as he smiled, illuminated by the light of the refrigerator. Door closing, Thomas was left in the soothing lights of the suspension above the island, which he sat himself at after grabbing a spoon. Diving it downwards, he grinned to himself as he watched it cut through the shaking substance, and a soft hum rumbled in his throat as he emptied a small spoonful into his warm mouth. Delicious.