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Jun. 21st, 2017 08:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cottoncandypinkWilford is sick of Billy’s living room. He’s sick of staying with someone whose culinary experience barely extends beyond a turkey sandwich. He’s sick of… everything, really.
He shuffles into the bar with Buster close at his heels, and makes slow tracks straight for the fireplace. He’s figured out that he can just about sit up comfortably if he keeps his feet up on the table and puts about three cushions behind his back, so that’s what he does to get settled. It’s a slow and painful process just getting down onto the sofa, but he manages it eventually. Once he gets there Buster climbs up with him, laying across his lap like a living blanket, and giving a semi-toothless snarl to anybody who gets too close - waitrats included.
How Wilford looks is probably a good approximation of how he feels. He hasn’t been able to shower in days, so he’s a bit of a greasy, unshaven mess, though he hasn’t got enough hair on his face yet to pull off that intentionally scruffy look his older self used to wear. The circles under his eyes are so dark, it almost looks like he was punched in the face, and he’s still looking awfully pale. The hoodie he’s wearing is about three sizes too big, but at least it’s clean. Wilford won’t let Billy get close enough to help him bathe, but he’s happy to let the man do all the laundry he wants.
In short, Wilford is a hot mess today, in every possible way. But he’d rather be a hot mess here, than on Billy’s horrible sofa, watching his horrible TV, and eating his horrible sandwiches.
He shuffles into the bar with Buster close at his heels, and makes slow tracks straight for the fireplace. He’s figured out that he can just about sit up comfortably if he keeps his feet up on the table and puts about three cushions behind his back, so that’s what he does to get settled. It’s a slow and painful process just getting down onto the sofa, but he manages it eventually. Once he gets there Buster climbs up with him, laying across his lap like a living blanket, and giving a semi-toothless snarl to anybody who gets too close - waitrats included.
How Wilford looks is probably a good approximation of how he feels. He hasn’t been able to shower in days, so he’s a bit of a greasy, unshaven mess, though he hasn’t got enough hair on his face yet to pull off that intentionally scruffy look his older self used to wear. The circles under his eyes are so dark, it almost looks like he was punched in the face, and he’s still looking awfully pale. The hoodie he’s wearing is about three sizes too big, but at least it’s clean. Wilford won’t let Billy get close enough to help him bathe, but he’s happy to let the man do all the laundry he wants.
In short, Wilford is a hot mess today, in every possible way. But he’d rather be a hot mess here, than on Billy’s horrible sofa, watching his horrible TV, and eating his horrible sandwiches.
