1 year ago
Wen was unconvinced the world had much to offer him. He was born into crime; his world was automatically shadowed in darkness. He had considered leaving in his rebellious teenage years, running away somewhere no one could find him. But truthfully, he didn't have much reason to. What was outside that was any better?
Wen's single pleasure in life was tea, a luxury he enjoyed on a strict schedule 5 times a day. He took his second cup at precisely 11:15 a.m. No one dared bother him–he had made absolutely sure the few minutes of respite he allowed himself went uninterrupted.
At exactly 11:17, two minutes after he had settled down and taken his first sip, a loud clank! sounded through Wen's office, followed by an even louder "Hello!"
Wen stood, pulling out his gun before he knew who he was pointing it at. Someone had just waltzed into his office; this was unheard of.
The intruder did not look the least bit phased by the gun pointed at his face. If anything, he didn't appear to notice it.
"This is a very nice office!" The man strode forward, gazing around. Wen held his gun steady, though it clearly wasn't working as a deterrent.
"Outside is so boring," the man continued, "just a bunch of shipping crates. But this office is great! You should decorate the whole place like this!"
Wen gripped his gun tighter. Who the hell was this?
The man was aimlessly wandering around, staring at the various odds and ends Wen had accumulated over the years. His eyes flickered with interest over the paintings hung neatly on the wall, and his mouth formed a soft 'o' the longer he looked. Wen took a deep breath in, trying to gather his thoughts.
Keeping his gun firmly pointed, Wen scanned the figure in front of him. The man was tall but not even close to his height. A much too-large t-shirt hung over his thin frame, almost covering the shorts his long legs stuck out of. He had tied his shoulder-length hair to rest messily on top of his head, pieces falling out and brushing his high cheekbones.
Then the intruder turned, flashing him a bright smile, and Wen dropped his gun for the first time in his life. It slid to the floor, and he didn't bother picking it up.