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[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

Outside (in a lined Civil War era navy-blue greatcoat that he acquired from the Bar. It hides the more hideous layers of clothing she provided, including the "You Looked Hotter Online" t-shirt.) Patrick Bateman is at least ankle deep in the snow bordering the frozen lake shore, circling something that he has come across.

He found the carved city.

He steps on one of the icy (cracking underfoot) buildings, and the smile is sharp.

". . .Ah, no. No. No! Help! Call the National Guard. It's Godzilla!"

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[yuppie-trash.livejournal.com]

Snapping off the spire of an ice-created tower, he smirks, stepping back to regard his destruction with an admiring eye.

Stepping into a darker patch of slick ice.

When he goes down he thinks--

(if I weren't Bound, I wouldn't be here. It's the fault of--)

--and he falls, hitting the back of his skull with a (thwock) very definite sound. Going slack. Eyes closed. An impromptu nap that's going to give him the largest headache (and goose egg contusion) ever. It's also going to make him that much angrier.