[ Since this afternoon, the darkness in which Xerxes Break lives is no longer complete. He can see hints of light and shadow, dark smudges of something there - most clearly when all the lights are on.
Which is why the lights are off, and he's sitting on the sofa, with a blanket over his head. From time to time, a skinny arm juts out of the cocoon, and reaches for the pile of cookies, hard scones, and only slightly-burnt tarts at his elbow (Gilbert's various attempts at pastry using modern appliances, saved from destruction). Ordinarily he'd reject such poor excuses for confectionary; but right now, anything sweet will do.
He hasn't moved from this position for hours, not since he got home. And so he might have continued to sit--that is, until he hears the scrabbling of the key in the lock. By the time the door pops open, he has thrown off the blanket and assumed a posture of sprawling repose across the sofa, with a scone between his teeth. ]
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Which is why the lights are off, and he's sitting on the sofa, with a blanket over his head. From time to time, a skinny arm juts out of the cocoon, and reaches for the pile of cookies, hard scones, and only slightly-burnt tarts at his elbow (Gilbert's various attempts at pastry using modern appliances, saved from destruction). Ordinarily he'd reject such poor excuses for confectionary; but right now, anything sweet will do.
He hasn't moved from this position for hours, not since he got home. And so he might have continued to sit--that is, until he hears the scrabbling of the key in the lock. By the time the door pops open, he has thrown off the blanket and assumed a posture of sprawling repose across the sofa, with a scone between his teeth. ]