Tourniquet sat, or more like lay, down in his room. His head was on the table, cushioned by a pillow, while his lower body was on the couch, legs draped over the back of the furniture. His tentacle arm's base was folded just so it would be comfortable to lay on his back, though it took him a while to get used to that.
He looked up at the white ceiling, which matched the white floor, rugs, furniture, lighting, appliances...pretty much everything that wasn't white was a pale silver metal, which showed in stark contrast to his casual, comfortable clothing. That's not to say that the design of his furniture wasn't tasteful or comfortable, he just liked to decorate in white. A quirk, if you will.
He was smoking his cigarra, using his tentacle arm to hold the slim, white tube, as his real arms were propped up behind his head and pillow.
He'd gotten stuck with another apprentice. Lovely.
Might as well make the best of it.
He looked up at the white ceiling, which matched the white floor, rugs, furniture, lighting, appliances...pretty much everything that wasn't white was a pale silver metal, which showed in stark contrast to his casual, comfortable clothing. That's not to say that the design of his furniture wasn't tasteful or comfortable, he just liked to decorate in white. A quirk, if you will.
He was smoking his cigarra, using his tentacle arm to hold the slim, white tube, as his real arms were propped up behind his head and pillow.
He'd gotten stuck with another apprentice. Lovely.
Might as well make the best of it.