[ After the sun sets, Abbacchio can be found in various spots around Lake Dala — usually close to the palazzo, though not always — easy enough for anyone lurking in the depths of the lake to spot. This evening sees him straying a little further, he even sits on the shoreline, feet barely dipping in the water. He's been there for a solid thirty minutes, expression distant as he gazes off into nothing and makes his way through entirely too many cigarettes. He'd at least brought a glass ashtray out with him. Abruptly, he stands and stretches, leaves his jacket on the floor where he'd been sitting and takes paces. Behind him, his tail sways, flicks back and forth.
This isn't the first time he's done this, he did the same the previous evening too, and the night before. This routine is new, the pacing, the contemplative frowning at the water as he idly attempts, and fails, to skip rocks against the surface. Something is clearly eating at him. Muttering under his breath, he drops back down onto the ground with a heavy thud, takes out another cigarette and holds it between his lips as he flicks his lighter, grumbling when the flint spins, and spins, produces nothing, and is then promptly and thoughtlessly thrown into the water. ]
action, before memsoup
Date: 2023-03-30 04:25 am (UTC)This isn't the first time he's done this, he did the same the previous evening too, and the night before. This routine is new, the pacing, the contemplative frowning at the water as he idly attempts, and fails, to skip rocks against the surface. Something is clearly eating at him. Muttering under his breath, he drops back down onto the ground with a heavy thud, takes out another cigarette and holds it between his lips as he flicks his lighter, grumbling when the flint spins, and spins, produces nothing, and is then promptly and thoughtlessly thrown into the water. ]
… shit.