A master at last(chase)

Several steps bring the man to the elevator threshold, another and he has stepped inside the glass box. A quick jab of the finger, and wires and mechanics groan against as he is jerked upward, the lobby floor already dissapearing farther beneath him. Many hallways are glimpsed in his ascent, along with many people, some grotesque in their fanciful outlined surgeries, some boasting magnificent whiskers and snouts of various animals, some tails swishing along their basksides, ears tucked into hats, vibrantly discoloured hair pulled into exotic hairstyles which, however stretegically placed, disgusted him. Everyday it became more and more clear that he was about the only one inable to rid himself of the features he was born with.

The solitude of the elevator gives Chance some time to think, and he takes these moments whenever they showed themself, for in a place as busy as the Capitol, one was never alone for long. Drab things circled amongst his other thoughts. Mostly business, how he would get that stock report in by Friday, when he had only just begun his work on it. How his annual pay had been degraded by ten dollars, and it was taking its toll on his wardrobe. But, also the state of his mind. How the cells that he had once beleived to be so in order, to be so well kept, seemed to be powering down, making his life harder, when it was already hard enough. He assumed he wasn't truly mad, for he had heard somewhere if you were, you couldn't wonder if it was true. If he was, wouldn't he be off trying to convince others he was sane?

Parting the troublesome thoughts, he stepped into the hallway, as the doors slid open. The luxiouriously padded carpet set his aching feet at ease, making his long walk dow the hall that much easier. He played with the thought of travelling back down to the ground floor, so as to soak in the tub of warmth (or a hot tub, as some have said), and to re-apply his hair dyes, maybe this time siding with a more vibrant color, like red or purple, replacing the muddy brown he had been foolish enough to submit to under the watchful eye of his appointed hairstylist. Glancing down at his nails, a manicure wouldn't do too much harm either, for he wanted to look good at the next business meeting, after all. Though, upon stepping into his room, he found he was far too exhausted to make way back down.

Throwing his breifcase aside, he all but threw himself onto the feather-stuffed matress, pulling the loose comforter around him as he settled in, still wearing his afternoon suit and shoes. Lightly tapping on the button mounted onto the bed's headboard, he ordered a large dish of turkey, a side of mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and a small bowl of grapes, along with a chilled bottle of wine. Upon placing the order, he settled back down, closing his eyes, his mouth going slack as he began to doze...

"Sir!"

"What?!" Glancing around the room, he found there was no one in the room, the voice having come from the speaker. "I mean, why do you wake me. I am tired, and would wish to nap before taking my supper, if you do not mind." He must always keep his pardons here, under fear of eviction, the manager untrustworthy, and very short tempered.

"We have a visitor for you. An Avox by the looks of it, and his attendant would like to send him up to you.

Huffing, he pushed himself to a sitting position and grumbled. He had ordered the damned traitor over a month ago. They had been clean out, the man had said. Clean out his ass. They just not got the desency to send one to him? "Fine, send it up and we'll have a little look." Pushing himself from the bed, he needed no furthur confirmation from the speaker. Smoothing his suit, he tussled his hair, so as to regain the professional air. No good, for your slave to think of you as a pushover. With that done, all that was left to do was stand and wait.


ooc-remember to keep your posts at least three paragraphs long, so as to keep the wordcount!^^