Russel laid in bed, a nest of blankets and various pillows. Splayed across the cushions, he awoke with the light of midday beaming through the crimson curtains. He growled in annoyance, nabbing one of the smaller pillows and shoving it over his eyes. It was time to wake up when he wanted to, not when some damn sunlight reddens his closed eyelids. He was let alone for another peaceful moment, until the sound of his alarm went off in his ear. Russ jumped up and smashed the piece of technology, his daily ritual. Eleven o'clock, meaning he had only half an hour to get to work. He could do it - his job was only a few blocks away from the apartment complex he lived in. Standing up, he shed the blankets from his lithe frame, allowing the peeking sunlight to warm his bare skin. He always went to bed with pajama pants, but there were some occasions where he probably slept them off. This time they were drooped by his bed, probably kicked off later last night. Pulling them back on, he saw a tear along the thigh. "Man, and I really liked these ones..." He grumbled, adjusting them to cling to his hips.
Walking into the bathroom, he washed up and got ready for the day. His hair boasted the new lemon-colored highlights at the end of his straight ebony locks, as well as black and silver beads looped through his hair. Brushing his teeth, he glared back at the tired, hazel-eyed beast before him, mouth covered in toothpaste foam like some rabid dog. He spit out the flavored fluoride and proceeded with the rest of his preparations outside the bathroom. He slipped into a black muscle shirt with some obscure form of morbid art printed on the front, and covered it in a dark blue dress shirt. Grabbing his work jeans, he fought them on as he sat at the small dining room table, forcing down a cup of coffee and a few cold bagel bites. He was never hungry in the morning, but as the day progressed he'd find himself starving for some reason. Russ slipped on some checkered shoes and rushed out the apartment, locking quickly after.
He walked the way to work, taking him only a few minutes. He prided himself on walking faster than others gave him credit for. Since he was very tall for his age, many assumed he would be a slow paced creature. Russ entered work and clocked in without a minute to spare - his boss was in the lobby, probably looking for people he could cut back on. As he neared the elevator to his small office, a deep voice called to him.
"Mr. Stemke, may I have a minute with you?"
Uh oh. Statements like those from a boss was never good. Cringing, Russ turned around and scuffled to the art department manager - Mr. Hamilton. Dressed in a sleek business suit, he ran his hand through his short, greased up brown hair. "I've been watching you and your work since day one, Mr. Stemke. Your level of expertise is impeccable, however your attendance and attire is... Less that desired. However, your work makes up for this, minor irritant..." Russ could feel his blood bubble in anger, but he kept a neutral expression. "I'm moving you to the fourth floor, with interbusiness communications. We need someone with a knack for handmade artwork to spice up meetings, charts, advertisement ideas, and so forth. I thank you in advance for your cooperation, Mr. Stemke. Your belongings are already moved, and a secretary is awaiting your arrival for further updating. Have a wonderful day and do keep up the work."
Russel mashed the button for the fourth floor and waited until the elevator door completely closed. Then he attacked the wall closest with a curled fist. That damn Hamilton made him so sick sometimes! How a man like that could be the boss of him was beyond Russ. Hell, he could even tell how he enjoyed his sense of power... His sense of domination over a group of people. Sneering once more before the door opened, he stepped out. No one like that would ever get the better of Russel Stemke. A woman in a shapely business suit of her own greeted Russ and guided him to his new desk - all of his supplies, pictures, and artwork were there, as well as his personalized computer - Nosferatu. He sat down - objectives in hand, and petted the computer screen. "Hello Nossie m'love, looks like you'll be the only one keeping me sane here..."
He pulled a pencil from the drawer and began sketching the company's mascot - some idiotic cartoon beagle, fully equipped with a baseball cap with company initials and wide cargo pants. It didn't matter, he was still getting paid well and as long as he'd be gone before sundown, he didn't complain. Well, not too much.
View User's Journal
Roleplay References
A few clips from previous roleplays to use as an example to my writing style. <3
 |
