didn't know it was a devil town
Clad only in a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and still blinking away sleep from the night before, Tim blearily makes his way to the kitchen. Times like these, when he's half awake and barefoot and he knows he doesn't have to be anywhere or do anything, he sometimes likes to pretend for a second or two that he's back in Dillon, that the kitchen he's staggering into will have a fridge half full of beer and that Billy'll be there to shout at him and call him lazy and useless.
The illusion never lasts very long and the twinge of disappointment fades just as quickly because there's still a part of Tim that at least doesn't miss that shit from Billy at all. And there's still a part of Tim that likes the idea of a full breakfast made for him every morning with no questions asked, so he can't really complain.
He'd kill for a fridge half full of beer any day, though.
Rubbing the hell of one hand against his eye, Tim opens the fridge and isn't at all surprised to see that the inside of it looks nearly exactly how it did the morning before. Meaning not a beer in sight. All hope for the day newly gone, he reaches in and pulls out the nearest container of what he assumes is orange juice and goes about pouring himself a glass.
The motions are automatic anymore, something he could do while being completely unconscious, this kitchen as familiar to him as the one back home. Glass in top cupboard. Pour. Container back in fridge. Lean. Drink.
It's cool and refreshing and he nearly downs the entire glass in one gulp before there's something large and heavy and hard on his tongue and against his teeth and he almost chokes.
He turns quickly and doubles over, dropping the glass with a loud clatter as he coughs and spits into the sink. And there's a big shiny piece of metal there where there hadn't been before, covered in a slick sheen of orange juice and saliva, glimmers of silver and blue shining underneath.
Tim's nose wrinkles in disgust and curiosity and he reaches to grab it. It's a ring, large and heavy, made of pure silver and--
Something lodges itself in Tim's throat and Tim swallows it back as he fumbles with the faucet knob and washes off the sticky juice and gunk, making the metal shine. He reads the words etched into the silver, the date.
"... Holy shit."
[OOC: Timmy has received his first item in the form of one shiny State Championship ring. Good time to meet him, but definitely open to old friends as well. ST/LT definitely cool.]
The illusion never lasts very long and the twinge of disappointment fades just as quickly because there's still a part of Tim that at least doesn't miss that shit from Billy at all. And there's still a part of Tim that likes the idea of a full breakfast made for him every morning with no questions asked, so he can't really complain.
He'd kill for a fridge half full of beer any day, though.
Rubbing the hell of one hand against his eye, Tim opens the fridge and isn't at all surprised to see that the inside of it looks nearly exactly how it did the morning before. Meaning not a beer in sight. All hope for the day newly gone, he reaches in and pulls out the nearest container of what he assumes is orange juice and goes about pouring himself a glass.
The motions are automatic anymore, something he could do while being completely unconscious, this kitchen as familiar to him as the one back home. Glass in top cupboard. Pour. Container back in fridge. Lean. Drink.
It's cool and refreshing and he nearly downs the entire glass in one gulp before there's something large and heavy and hard on his tongue and against his teeth and he almost chokes.
He turns quickly and doubles over, dropping the glass with a loud clatter as he coughs and spits into the sink. And there's a big shiny piece of metal there where there hadn't been before, covered in a slick sheen of orange juice and saliva, glimmers of silver and blue shining underneath.
Tim's nose wrinkles in disgust and curiosity and he reaches to grab it. It's a ring, large and heavy, made of pure silver and--
Something lodges itself in Tim's throat and Tim swallows it back as he fumbles with the faucet knob and washes off the sticky juice and gunk, making the metal shine. He reads the words etched into the silver, the date.
"... Holy shit."
[OOC: Timmy has received his first item in the form of one shiny State Championship ring. Good time to meet him, but definitely open to old friends as well. ST/LT definitely cool.]