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Have you ever felt that utterly cosmic boredom of sitting on a bus? No? Oh jeez, it’s so hard to explain. You can bring whatever book, music player, laptop, or gaming device you like. No matter what you bring, however, you’ll still wind up with a complete lack of things to do. Humans aren’t meant to sit down for long periods of time, and it drives you insane when you can’t distract yourself from the static position. 

Arthur, however, doesn’t play games or use mobile phones for much beyond phone calls. He’s a man in his late fifties so he’s not much moved on with the times, of course he’s not much for games. 

Why is this important? 

He forgot to bring a book in his carry on, and let me tell you something about having absolutely nothing to do. It’s killer on your psyche. We join Arthur about halfway through his journey, we’ll see just how much frustration this boredom can bring.

The ticker-thump of the tires on the bumpy road was the only noise accompanying the detective in his time of need, it was midday and honestly kind of hot on the bus. Though he was sitting beneath a vent, he was just sweating uncontrollably. Without any body hair, this was further discomforting for reasons that should be quite obvious. If he still had any semblance of a religious belief, he would have begun praying as he sat there, trying to get as much of that relieving cool air on his face as possible. [color=f7941d]“Sweet release, save me from this uncomfortable heat.”[color] He mumbled grumpily, staring at the three slits that provided the slightest relief. It was like the face of some cartoon robot that just had the most mocking and infuriating face, it would have made him angrier and angrier if it weren’t providing comfort.

Hours upon hours of this crushing and depressing boredom and two stopovers where a child came aboard and ruined the silence by screaming and hollering before them and their parentage were kicked from the bus for disrupting the other customers. To which a collective sigh of relief was breathed by the patronage of the Greyhound bus, Arthur’s own sigh was particularly loud.

The next few days were much the same as the above, and he damn near broke down in tears when he finally arrived at his destination of Lost Haven. Unloading his own bags and booking it in borderline full sprint to the nearest hotel. Bags tucked under his arms, breathing heavy and sweat pouring down his perfect face he reached the counter and threw a handful of bills to the woman behind it. [color=f7941d]”I’ll pay for three weeks up front, what rooms are open?”[/color] 

You would be surprised at how little people actually care about others, without looking up from her fingernails she tossed him a key with the room number of 212. “Third Floor.” She said noncommittally, blowing some of that fingernail dust off the back of her hand. Nodding and taking his key, Might traveled up the stairs for about five or six minutes. What’s a few minutes after a week or so of absolutely deadass boredom?  

The moment the door was locked behind him, Arthur flopped face first onto the mattress and passed the hell out. 

It was another several hours before he came to and tossed himself naked into the shower, the refreshing heat of the water running down his body was relaxing, washing the stale sweat from the ride over off him. Felt almost as though he were washing away the experience, as the bath went on and his muscles relaxed from the stress tension. 

Today he would gather himself, relax, and prepare. Tomorrow, he would begin work.