King's Room

[Hannibal King]

Continued from: The Court.


Slouching on his bed, Hannibal stared up at the ceiling for all of twenty seconds before he got bored and restless. He rolled over onto his front, face-down in the two pillows he slept on, and let out a low, long breath, before he finally pulled himself free. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he drummed his fingertips on the mattress, furrowing his brow pensively as he looked around his messy, disorganised room for something to do.

He’d passed Sommerfield and her daughter, Zoe, on the way to his room, but they’d been reading. He’d heard some minor reference to Dorothy, so… it was anybody’s guess as to whether that was an ‘Oz’ book or not; he knew they were Zoe’s favourite, but he could be wrong, he supposed. Either way, he’d simply smiled, said ‘hi’ and kept right on going, reluctant to interrupt.

Finally, his eyes landed on something buried underneath at least two shirts and one pair of pants, and he tossed them aside, revealing his console. “Wondered where that had gotten to…”

Of course, it took a very ‘special’ kind of person to lose an entire game’s console, but he didn’t really think about that as he fired it up, and slouched unhealthily on his bed, waiting for it to load.

Before long, he was lazily speeding around ‘Vice City’ in a stolen vehicle, with cops on his tail, staring numbly at the screen, but inside, enjoying it just as much as any average ten-year-old boy would.

[Hannibal King]

“Oh, for… how the hell do they do that?”

Grumbling at the screen wasn’t exactly going to rectify the problem that he’d just been ‘wasted’ again, and he stared at the options for a while before turning off the console. For all the carnage and stress-relief the game could provide, it could get pretty damn tedious when you weren’t playing the missions and just taking part in senseless destruction or speeding or the like.

“Looks like I’m back at square one… oh, the ‘joy’,” he muttered irritably to himself, looking around his cluttered room for something to entertain himself with. After a while, he realised he wasn’t going to find anything in this mess just by staring at it. So he flopped off the bed, and started to dig through the war-zone.

“Eew, how long has that been there?” Casting it – whatever ‘it’ was – into the overflowing bin, he moved along. “Wondered where that had gone…” Looking at the book for a moment, he tossed it onto the spilling desk, and then found something that surely couldn’t have been his.

“What the…” The rubix cube seemed to stare at him in silent, mocking challenge. “This has gotta be Zoe’s…” As to how it had ended up in his room was beyond him, but giving a shrug – and never one to turn down a challenge; inanimate object or not – he sat back on his bed again, slouched more than was healthy for someone of his height and build, and got to work on the block puzzle.

How hard can it be?

[Hannibal King]

“Son of a bitch…”

Resisting the overwhelming urge to hurl the ‘toy’ at the wall, he stared at the rubix cube in his hands. It was even worse than when he’d started, if such a thing was possible with a big block with different coloured squares you had to align.

“Stupid idea, anyway. These things are impossible.”<br>
Give him a group of vamps, and it was a completely different matter altogether. He could handle that; he enjoyed that, even. Watching them burn after being shot or staked was something that brought him an odd joy and a calming satisfaction; it helped with the memories of when he’d been… one of them. Near on growling, he paused, took a deep breath, and then lay the rubix cube down on his messy bedside cabinet, intending to return it to Zoe later… if it was indeed hers at all. Who knew?

Now what? he asked himself idly, slouched back against his headboard.

“Bored…” he mumbled. “Bored, bored… bored… boooooored…”

Part of him wished something would happen out in the city; it would do him some good to kill a few vampires… it would certainly cure the boredom, anyway.

[Hannibal King]

Practically rolling off his bed, King managed to land in a semi-decent crouch, and moved haphazardly towards the window. He guessed he'd fallen asleep as he'd laid on his bed, mindlessly bored... it was getting dull outside. And King smiled.

Dusk.

Dusk meant the sun was going down. Dusk meant there would be something to do... dusk meant vampires.

And vampires meant ass-kicking fun. King's smile became a grin, and he scruffed up his hair, catching his reflection in the mirror. He quirked a brow; he'd need to tidy himself up some if he was going to propose hunting to Whistler. While he didn't care what the bloodsuckers thought of him, it didn't hurt to make a good impression on the vampires before they died.