[ Alrighty, then. This is happening. Gabe gives the stranger a wave, like an asshole, and shoulders the door closed. Either this guy comes back, or he doesn't. It's one of those evenings. He retreats back to the bed he's claimed, and the little stack of paper he begged off the locals to start folding an origami cat. His daughter's favorite. Sometimes, when he can think to, he collects them up and then he gives them to her when he visits. Cats, frogs, flowers. She likes to look at them, touch them gently. Or crush them in her tiny fist and laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and he has to laugh with her because really, what can you expect from a little kid?
It's a melancholy thought. He tucks it away into a neat little box and decides not to touch it again. He works on the paper cat instead - mountain fold, valley fold, everything in sequence, everything done just so - and he's almost done when there's a knock on the door again. And a stranger back in the doorway, both hands full.
Gabe tilts his head, grinning. And then he steps back, tucking the finished cat away back onto the nightstand next to the series of flowers and frogs he's been working on. ]
Variety. Forward thinking. All right, then. Hi, roomie. You're lucky I'm nice. Hell, I don't even snore.
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It's a melancholy thought. He tucks it away into a neat little box and decides not to touch it again. He works on the paper cat instead - mountain fold, valley fold, everything in sequence, everything done just so - and he's almost done when there's a knock on the door again. And a stranger back in the doorway, both hands full.
Gabe tilts his head, grinning. And then he steps back, tucking the finished cat away back onto the nightstand next to the series of flowers and frogs he's been working on. ]
Variety. Forward thinking. All right, then. Hi, roomie. You're lucky I'm nice. Hell, I don't even snore.