[center][h1]Oliver Black[/h1][/center]


For maybe, twenty minutes the man stared at the screen, the only words upon it, 'You Died' and he decided to take a shower to cool himself off after relaxing by himself and his computer for an indeterminate amount of time. Music had been coming from his room, Iron Maiden, Metallica, and other older metal bands, as well as some 'newer' stuff like Poor Mans Poison here and there. But, he decided to take a nice, hot shower to relax, and get himself hungry for a night snack. He moved things off of the bed he built, and onto his computer chair and desk. Finding an old T-shirt that fits him well, would be good to wear once I get out, it's comfortable and happy. He then lifted his drink, ginger ale, to his lips, and relaxed before he moved into the bathroom he had made for himself. Nice, and wooden, the way he liked it. 

-Twenty minutes later- 
 
The large wooden door which looked to be the blend of a North-western cowboy's door, and a nordic Vikings, steam came out from close to the floor, and out stepped a man. This man was known as Oliver, clothed in a white t-shirt with a smiley face upon it, baggy pants that may or may not be PJs, and flip flops. Around his neck was an old style of earphone connected by wire to a phone that rested upon his shoulder in a strap. Oliver's hair was formed in a towel around his head, and he smelled of whiskey and gunpowder, a man's favorite soap smell. His beard looked freshly cleaned up, oils included. Around him, Iron Maiden played until two dings came upon on his phone, he plugged it into his earphones so as to not annoy others and decided to make his way down the hallway. 

Immediately he looked a bit like an idiot; he noticed that he was somewhat alone, but for those in the main room talking, he just went at it. Air guitar and all as he started down the hall slowly, his head moving back and forth, the towel slowly unraveling, and he gave a kick forward as he continued to play air instruments and being quite good at it in his mind. He was able to do solos of guitars, of which he did not know how to play. Drumming a bit here and there when the guitar let up for drums. He was singing as well in his thought of safety, mainly just the more available parts of the song, but still, it was a bit of singing. 

"Run to the Hillsssssssssss." his hands would move back and forth like drums, "Run, for your, lives."
 
"Dum dum, dum dum." He muttered with the motions of him hitting drums, and his hair/towel flying back and forth.

"Run to the hillsss." 

"Run, forrrr your, lives." his head stilled as he stopped halfway down the hallway; realizing that was mainly out loud, he fixed the towel around his head, moving it over his shoulders as his wet hair rested on either side of his neck. He would continue his pathway down towards the central area, and if it were not for his beard, there would possibly be red cheeks of slight embarrassment there. He would slowly make his way around the room, his destination the kitchen. 

"I see whiskey; anyone wants something to go with it?" Oliver asked as his beeline for the kitchen was his newest priority. "I saw some new recipe online and thought I could give it a try, cause why not, it looked good, and I am hungry. Diets be damned, and the whiskey is out."