Lawrence didn't like the man who stared back at him when he looked in the mirror. Granted, it had been this way for many years. He couldn't remember the last time his reflection served as a basis for excitement or pride. All he felt was heartbreak and contempt. He combed his hair the same way he had for many years, a perfect stranger's eyes boring into his own. He tied his tie the same way he did every time. Like clockwork, he finished what he needed to, and didn't feel any more proud when he had. He frowned. After a moment of contemplation, he reached into the cabinet and retrieved what he needed to -- he'd been ignoring it, but figured, for the sake of his future crewmates, he'd take it. He made a sort of face then swallowed promptly. They don't refill prescriptions in space, do they? For a little bit, at the very least, Lawrence would like himself. At least a little bit more. 

There wasn't a lot to like. He made sure to button his shirt to the top and tie the knot of his tie as surely as possible. He made sure there was a new coat of polish on his shoes and that they were tied with efficiency in mind. He sighed. 

It wasn't very often Lawrence left the house anymore. He drove himself insane in a cycle of needing to make sure everything was exactly in its place -- then not having the energy to follow through on this obsession. So he paced around his room for hours on empty. He memorized every creak in his floor. Sometimes he could still hear his wife's footsteps -- which he had spent just as long committing to memory. Sometimes he could even hear her playing the piano. The lid had been shut for many years and dust collected on it just outside his office door. 

In many ways, she was still around. It annoyed him. Her lipstick had stained every damn coffee cup in the house. When he poured himself a cup, it was something he couldn't help but to think over one more time. Then he heaved his shoulders slightly and sighed. His appetite was absolute ass at this point -- but this was his third cup so far into the day. Though according to Lawrence, there was never a wrong time for coffee. Even in the middle of the night. 

After gaining his bearings -- pocketing what he needed to -- Lawrence made his way outside. The commute wasn't necessarily long, but uncomfortable. He remembered a time where he felt confidence and ease walking among people. The contrast was stark -- though most onlookers wouldn't be able to tell Detective Sergeant Williams' anxiety from assured poise. This well-crafted mask served him well much of the time, even if he wasn't so sure that it did. Rearing upon the entrance of the Stellar Horizon, he exhaled. It was a measured thing. After knitting his brows, he smiled dryly, politely greeted the Captain -- Ms. West, he thought it was -- with a firm handshake and made his way inside. It was a marvel, there was no doubt about that. This would take some getting used to. His mind swirled as he looked for his room.

West. He swore that name rang a bell! West. He'd have to think about it. Lawrence was no fool. By this point, he knew if something struck him as familiar, it probably was. His instincts told him that she may have been involved in a case he was investigating at one point or another -- but this didn't feel right. 

It was probably something else.

He finally found his room. Lawrence was pleasantly surprised at how tethered it was to not only his tastes, but accommodating even small things about himself he could have sworn he never mentioned. The room, as far as he could tell, was completely symmetrical. Two bookshelves, one at either side of the room, stood proudly, packed to the brim with books. Opposite of his bed, the edges of both pieces of furniture parallel, was a desk. There was a lot of space -- a lot of breathing room -- for the man to pace around in the room, which is what he liked. Hell, there was even a curtain to separate his bed from the rest of the room, giving it a much more isolated, office-esque feel between the two. 

And a window. Directly in the middle, just above his head. Though Lawrence wasn't sure if it was a window, per say -- or a screen. Either way, it was somewhat disheartening as he realized that soon, it would only show a vast emptiness beyond it.

After settling himself, he sighed and left his room. He joined the grouping of people, and cleared his throat, nodding at the Captain respectfully. He couldn't help but feel a little underwhelming compared to this peculiar casting -- but that was all the more useful at the end of the day. 

[color=violet] "It's nice to meet you. My name is Lawrence Williams. I am a communications officer. It's my job to keep up ship-to-ship communication as well as manage transmission between other colonies or stations," [/color] he assured politely. There was a strange cadence to the way he spoke. It was weighty and strained -- assertive and polite -- yet oddly resigned in its own way. He thought for a moment, before cordially adding, [color=violet] "A fun fact about myself... is that I share a birthday with my dog. Complete accident, by the way." [/color] He chuckled faintly. It didn't really mean anything.