Far from the command floors, one man strode through the packed corridors of Deck 36.
His dirty blonde hair was buzzed on the sides, nearly shaved. The top, however, was a mess of short hair. It was either the worst bedhead conceivable or someone had been ruffling his hair with far too much force.
The blue suit he wore was properly pressed, spotless. Though, his dress shoes were somewhat scuffed around the toe.
Both eyes were akin to emeralds, which had been freshly dug up with dirt and rock drastically dulling their unpolished sheen.
With hands in his pockets and no bag of any kind, the man just kept walking. He didn't look at the passing crowds. All he did was walk and glare at the floor directly in front of him, barely glancing at the business signs on the Recreation floor.
Eventually… after a long trek through the mental muck weighing down his feet, the man spotted the shop he was searching for.
