01-23-2020, 10:36 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]Elwin realizes, with a growing look of horror, that he's attracted a crowd. It must have been the smell, given that people smell smoke or the stench of burnt flesh and come running in the wrong direction, either to help extinguish the flames or gawk at such a morbid sight. Well, unfortunately, the worst thing these people will see tonight is his new, God-awful style.
Just the three (well, two, given that Brendan hasn't really come closer) of them surrounding him now isn't beyond his limits, but Elwin wants to cut it off there. God forbid anyone else come to point and laugh.
"Does anyone fucking sleep here?" he grumbles, pulling the back of his shirt over his head to shield his poor bald scalp from ogling eyes. "It's the middle of the night." He's quite clearly deflecting, but he'd sooner shave the other side of his head and then his eyebrows than try to explain his weird obsession. He's learned the hard way that most people don't take kindly to such a thing. Rather than out himself as a freak, Elwin just prepares himself to dodge the question how did you manage this? a hundred thousand times.
"I'm fine," he says to Emery, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt for making this unfamiliar woman fret. "Just a little mishap. Don't worry about it."
In any other case, he wouldn't have really cared. Maybe if he'd set his shirt on fire, he would be less affected. A shirt could be replaced in a matter of seconds, but his hair? That was what he hid his face behind half the time. It kept his ears warm! Now his dumb freckled face--half of it, at least--is open and exposed to the rest of the world and suddenly he feels a bit vulnerable.
"... nothing to see here," he tries, waving his free hand at the lot of them as if he's trying to shoo them off. "Stop gawking, would you?"
Just the three (well, two, given that Brendan hasn't really come closer) of them surrounding him now isn't beyond his limits, but Elwin wants to cut it off there. God forbid anyone else come to point and laugh.
"Does anyone fucking sleep here?" he grumbles, pulling the back of his shirt over his head to shield his poor bald scalp from ogling eyes. "It's the middle of the night." He's quite clearly deflecting, but he'd sooner shave the other side of his head and then his eyebrows than try to explain his weird obsession. He's learned the hard way that most people don't take kindly to such a thing. Rather than out himself as a freak, Elwin just prepares himself to dodge the question how did you manage this? a hundred thousand times.
"I'm fine," he says to Emery, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt for making this unfamiliar woman fret. "Just a little mishap. Don't worry about it."
In any other case, he wouldn't have really cared. Maybe if he'd set his shirt on fire, he would be less affected. A shirt could be replaced in a matter of seconds, but his hair? That was what he hid his face behind half the time. It kept his ears warm! Now his dumb freckled face--half of it, at least--is open and exposed to the rest of the world and suddenly he feels a bit vulnerable.
"... nothing to see here," he tries, waving his free hand at the lot of them as if he's trying to shoo them off. "Stop gawking, would you?"
[sub]the artist formerly known as hal[/sub]
Hoot gives Hal’s body a hug