Room 203, Sunday Morning

Stark still hadn't given up on talking to himself. It was easier than talking to other people at least. Not that he wouldn't talk, given the opportunity, he just wasn't up to seeking out company at the moment. Going out, however briefly, on Wednesday to do something other than work had clearly been a fluke of some kind.

So now he was back in his room. Or still in his room. Quietly arguing with himself while sitting in a corner, head against the wall. Someone passing by the room might have heard the occasional soft thud of a mask hitting a wall, if they were listening.



[Door's not open, post is. I'm around, even.]