[h3][color=#90adb1]Marcus Bradley[/color][/h3] [sup]Location: Games Room -> [color=f26522]Hallway[/color]
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Marcus' own snoring woke him up. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and it did nothing to clear away the thin blurry film apparently on his eyeballs now-- what was that sutff anyway? As he continued to rub his eyes, Marcus reasoned it must be that gunk that makes eye crusties. Sure, that seemed a viable theory. Maybe he would go downstairs and ask mom what she thought of it. Weird... Marcus couldn't smell her morning coffee brewing and well, the house seemed a bit too quiet for this hour. Did she miss her alarm? Stretching himself once more, Marcus rolled over, then stood out of the-- chair.

He had been sleeping in a chair. 

Looking over his shoulder, Marcus stared at the comfortable recliner as if it had offended him. It was in that moment that reality began crawling back to him, tired and angry with him-- how dare he forget it? How dare he forget that this was a strange room in a strange facility in what was probably a strange country? How dare he think he were back home, comfortable and normal, with the people he cared about and longed for? An empty feeling settled into Marcus as he stared into the large room, decked out in all it's various forms of entertainment, it's unused chairs and sofas, all trying their hardest to ease him into a false sense of comfort. 

It was as if the room no, the whole place, were shouting, [i]"Look-- we have everything you could need-- why not feel fine here? Forget what else you need or want-- we have everything to keep you occupied and happy."[/i] A deep sigh escaped Marcus. Sure, the facility had "everything" in a literal sense but, there would never be anything here close to what he wanted. A plate of eggs scrambled by his mother, the wet lapping of his dog's tongue against his face, the satisfaction of a hard day's work, and a sunset over a field he'd helped plow himself... Again he took to rubbing his eyes and for what? It wasn't as if them being clear would wipe away the hospital white reality of the hallways, the clean scent of sterile air, or the harsh taste of blue medicine on his tongue that was doing God-Knows-What to him. 

Uncomfortable with the room all of a sudden and simultaneously realizing he was shirtless still, Marcus turned  then headed for the doorway. He exited the room and softly closed the door behind himself. Staring at the ground for a few moments, Marcus tried his best to pry his mind away from his sorrow filled thoughts. Truly, he gave it his best shot. When he finally looked up and toward the end of the hall, he saw Athena again. Marcus' eyes grew wide and his posture rigid-- he stared at her. Were she to look his way, all he would do is continue staring.

Did she remember? Would she remember? Would she be mad? How would she react? No-- no he shouldn't even mention it-- should he? No. Don't say anything. Marcus continued to stare at Athena in silence, anxiously grinding his teeth as she neared him-- she hadn't seen him yet? Had she seen him yet? Marcus pressed his body into the door behind himself then fumbled about to find the door handle-- [i]WHERE WAS IT?[/i] His hand was scraping against the door making quite a ruckus as he kept his awkward wide-eyed stare on Athena. 

[sup]Interaction: [@wolverbells] [/sup]