Gideon stirred in his sleep, beams of light had started to peak through the holed roof of the attic where he made his home. The attic itself was sparse. His backpack, boots, and coat were within a step's reach from his mattress, the coat itself hung from an old nail where previously something else like a clock or painting once hung. Aside from that, there was an old cobweb and dusty covered mirror in one corner, an equally dusty steamer trunk that was a short distance away from Gideon's bed, and a bolt-locked trapdoor in the center of the room that led down to the rest of the house.

Gideon himself was buried under a mass of clothes and blankets that he used for warmth, a Colt M1911 pistol was beside his pillow and although the safety was on, it was loaded. Careful not to knock the gun over, he moved some of the pile off to stretch himself out in his sweat shirt and long johns. 

He had grown used to waking up around noon, he rarely had breakfast these days so much as brunch. His night-time work often left him sleeping through a large part of the days, earning him the nickname locals had given him, "Owl". He didn't care so much, he had had a few years to grow used to his new life here in the Zone, and sleeping schedules was a part of it.

Sliding himself out from the pile of warm blankets and clothes and picking up his pistol, he walked over towards the window and looked out the broken pane. He couldn't see much, mostly the roofs of a couple of the other old houses of the village he was in and the surrounding countryside and overgrown, budding springtime foliage. Gideon liked the spring, it would mean generally warmer temperatures, he hated having to plug up all the drafts during Winter. Hell, most times he didn't even bother then and spent the money renting out space from those who were reliable and had decent quarters and wanted cash.

After stretching out some more, Gideon walked over to his steamer trunk and after opening it he started getting dressed for the day. He kept his relatively clean clothes and holster rig in there, he hated leaving things unorganized and on the ground to get any more dirty or dusty than they already were. So, putting his pistol down for now, he continued on with his daily ritual of getting ready to start a new day in The Zone.