[center][right][sub][color=#d0dcf6]prince phillip's apartment ⇒ fae's bar and diner
just wants his usual order, jess :( [@MiddleEarthRoze][/color][/sub][/right]
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[i][sup][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5I-ttgLKaU][color=90ade9][b]Rare[/b][/color][/url][color=#d0dcf6] is this love, keep it covered
I need you to run to me, run to me, lover
Run until you feel your lungs bleeding[/color][/sup]
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He slouched over the edge - a burden laid dead weight against his back. The smoke twirled from his lips, pressed against the cracks in the surface and billowed in the cold sting of morning air. Rain pattered against the side of the building, a steady thrumming a head faster than the beating in his chest. He slouched further, let the scaffolding of his windowsill rustle underneath his cotton shorts. Wind carried the weight of trees and the quiet chirrups of a cuckoo intermingled between the low sounds of a mourning dove. Phillip craned his head low, let the sounds reach his ears before he hummed and leaned back.

A deep seated dread mocked him, hung above his head in the low light of dawn. Sleep came fleeting, sprinkled between restless dreams and that aggravating in between that taxed him more than gave him needed rest. The earthquake from a few hours prior had tossed him from a dreamless slumber, something deep and fulfilling. It dumped him on the side of the road and left him puttering behind, just within reach, but never able to grasp. It thrust him into bad habit after bad habit: alcohol, 'internet browsing' cut short from a power outage, brooding, and ultimately hanging precariously out of his window with a cigarette in his mouth and rain splattering against his entire front half.

Hours later, the call had nearly succeeded in tipping him over, though he caught himself mid jump. His grumbling stopped him from sliding back in and answering, letting the message beep and the voicemail go through. Eventually, Phillip told himself, his finger tapping the end of the cigarette over the edge. The ashes coated his bare knees and another grumble rumbled in his chest. The mourning dove stopped, addled by the rain and likely seeking shelter. Or something got it; he didn't see a hawk swirling by, but the rain wouldn't stop an animal from a good meal.

Contemplating wouldn't do him any good. It wouldn't provide him the next five hours he wanted of sleep, nor would it allow him respite from the day ahead. And it sure as hell wouldn't fix him any coffee. Yet, Phillip staid still, slouched over the scaffolding with his eyes peering onto the untouched grass below. How to avoid pestering neighbors? Paranoid tales looking toward him among others? They would, just out of sheer misfortune and not because he could do anything - everyone knew how capable they all were and he was no different. Still.

Phillip scowled, spitting out another billow of smoke from his lungs and tossing the snub of a cigarette into a bush below. He slid back, tucked himself in and swung into his room with much pause. The window sill shut with a click and he pattered through his small apartment and into the one bathroom he had. The water spouted cold for a good solid five minutes, of which left Phillip gritting his teeth until it turned a searing hot. He screamed for a good few seconds, unabashed and only slightly ashamed. It took longer to adjust to the swing in temperatures than it did getting cleaned. Once he did - adding in a few touch ups here and there - Phillip took a good long stare at his phone until he finally slid in a password and pressed the speaker to his ear.

Meeting. Library. Dorothy missing - dead, Phillip corrected himself. Dorothy was almost certainly dead. He rolled his eyes and let the phone bounce onto his mattress, still chattering away. Admitting anything was against everything Phillip stood for and the stubbornness that ran through him refused to let go. No Cataclysm. Not another one, that would take too much caring to deal with. Phillip pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, rubbed until light bloomed in his sight and growled at nothing. He slid his phone on again to check the time before tossing it aside once more.

Hours stood between him and something to do. Anything to do. Phillip shoved on enough clothes to be considered decent and left his apartment with as much haste as he could muster. Phillip's own concerns stopped at the low rumble of his stomach, quickly masked by his beat up truck's engine literally roaring to semi-life (Schrodinger's Vehicle, he called it). The ride to the library remained terse and Phillip idled in his truck for far too long before shifting back into gear and barreling away. No use wasting time likely sleeping on one of the desks - he settled for Fae's Diner and upon arrival, settled in the farthest booth he could find. His sneer passed over Beauty and Adam, then Sherlock before finally settling onto the leather across from him.

"[color=90ade9]I doubt coffee's going to help anyone,[/color]" he mumbled, opening the menu, though he never did order anything different - two English muffin filled to the brim with egg, sunny-side, and bacon, never sausage and a side of hash browns with a hot, spattering cup of decaf, black as night coffee. He was certain Jess would already be exasperatedly cooking something up for him. Maybe. Phillip didn't spare a glance, his own pride getting in the way of a hearty meal. Aside from the earthquake, the call, the general sense of 'Oh shit, something's going down,' crawling all over his back and shoulders, it seemed like any normal day. Though, it was never a good sign if Phillip ever decided to step out of his home past noon, looking for something to eat with his usual coffee travel mug.