(OOC:( There’s no need for a timestamp if the chronology of your writing doesn’t influence the flow of events. You can mention the time in-character when you look at the clock.))

Reggie took yet another deep breath as he lay on his cheap couch, eyes closed as he thought to himself. [i]Matt’s insatiable urge to throw his knife around and ruin furniture will undoubtedly influence our rent next month…[/i] he thought, feeling around a slash-mark in the arm rest of the cotton-woven furniture item. Reggie always planned ahead in all aspects of his life, sometimes too far, especially with finances, which neither of them had to worry about anymore considering their jobs. Nonetheless, Reggie preferred to keep something in mind, at least to keep his good habits uninhibited, and he did not particularly esteem Matt's knife habits, either.

The bulky asian stretched for a few seconds as he convinced his lazy self to sit upright once more. He was not “bored” so much as, “distanced from action and excitement.” The medic looked around the room with his bright green eyes as he engaged with his consciousness in an internal debate about his future course of action for dinner. [i]Cup ramen or cliff bars…that is the question…[/i] With a yawn, the medic stood up, brushing a few stray pieces of yarn from his urban camo uniform. 

The material was optimal – it was resistant to cuts and tears, didn’t burn easily, was very breathable(except he sprayed his uniform with aquaphobic product) and didn’t inflict friction burns like wool. Despite this, Reggie took the properties of his clothes for granted because of the five extra pairs he kept in his closet. Reggie also ignored his boots, for the most part. He didn’t even wear them in the apartment, because they were very uncomfortable in the given setting. Nonetheless, Reggie understood the value of his clothes as the hem of his pants caught on the leg of a coffee-table, causing him to trip.

Unlike Matt, Reggie had taken aikido, so instead of thudding against the ground, he rolled off his shoulder and quickly got back up. “A pain in the arse…” he grumbled, walking towards the kitchen. As he reached the door, he heard the whine of Matt’s desk drawer opening. With a condescending grin, Reggie called out a threat, “keep up your knife spinning and, one of these days, you’ll lose your trigger finger.” He then walked into the kitchen and looked through a few drawers, staring blankly at their supplies as his internal debate continued.