Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2014 19:34:34 GMT -5
Thorne swiped his hand across the bathroom mirror, clearing a palm-sized smear of glass amidst the condensation. Passing thoughts of hubris and self-loathing flashed through his mind as he stood, hunched over the sink, staring into the streak. The creases about his eyes seemed longer, reaching longingly toward his temples. Thorne ran a hand along the underside of his chin, stopping at his lower lip. The lines around his mouth seemed deeper, more sallow with each passing day. His jaw sagged, marrying cheek and neck. He straightened his posture, using the towel around his neck to finish wiping off the mirror. His stomach hung over the belt of his terrycloth robe. What little definition that remained in his body was mere suggestion, a reminder of youth lost.
"Still got it," Thorn intoned wryly, untying the robe and shaking it off his shoulders as he walked out into the bedroom.
It took but a moment to slide into a white cotton shirt and black suit, his second skin. The crotch wasn’t nearly as tight as it had been prior to the alterations and the waistline no longer cut into his sides. Thorne studied his profile in a large mirror opposite the closet’s oaken door, nodding approvingly as he fastened his gold cufflinks. One of the primary benefits of a tailored suit: it hides the bulge so you don’t have to hold your breath all evening.
While a wardrobe of black and grey allowed considerable versatility with accents, there’s something to be said for simplicity. Tonight was a black-tie affair and he chose a jet-paisley necktie accordingly. He breathed heftily as he worked the tie and jerked the knot up against his collar. His thick fingers fumbled with the slender, gold bar as he fastened the clip in place.
On the nightstand across the room his phone pulsated, a soft, quick hum against the ever-present sigh of climate control. Thorne ducked down to pick up his wingtips before traversing the room, barefoot, to check the display.
CAR OUT FRONT
As any Gothamite of sound mind could attest, purchasing or leasing a vehicle in the city, this city above all others, was ill-advised; Gotham City topped the nation for auto theft. Thorne - and the bulk of the city council - utilized car services and luxury taxis with chauffeur and, when requested, escorts (of varying natures). The councilman had elected to attend Luthor's soiree stag.
He snatched the plaid charcoal socks from the foot of the bed and tugged them on and up with a stunted grunt before lacing up the Oxfords. His back creaked and popped as Thorne stood upright, stretching his neck to the right as he extended his shoulder blades. He lifted his arms, ran his hands through his hair, and gave himself one, final check in the mirror before grabbing his topcoat.
"Still got it," Thorn intoned wryly, untying the robe and shaking it off his shoulders as he walked out into the bedroom.
It took but a moment to slide into a white cotton shirt and black suit, his second skin. The crotch wasn’t nearly as tight as it had been prior to the alterations and the waistline no longer cut into his sides. Thorne studied his profile in a large mirror opposite the closet’s oaken door, nodding approvingly as he fastened his gold cufflinks. One of the primary benefits of a tailored suit: it hides the bulge so you don’t have to hold your breath all evening.
While a wardrobe of black and grey allowed considerable versatility with accents, there’s something to be said for simplicity. Tonight was a black-tie affair and he chose a jet-paisley necktie accordingly. He breathed heftily as he worked the tie and jerked the knot up against his collar. His thick fingers fumbled with the slender, gold bar as he fastened the clip in place.
CAR OUT FRONT
As any Gothamite of sound mind could attest, purchasing or leasing a vehicle in the city, this city above all others, was ill-advised; Gotham City topped the nation for auto theft. Thorne - and the bulk of the city council - utilized car services and luxury taxis with chauffeur and, when requested, escorts (of varying natures). The councilman had elected to attend Luthor's soiree stag.
He snatched the plaid charcoal socks from the foot of the bed and tugged them on and up with a stunted grunt before lacing up the Oxfords. His back creaked and popped as Thorne stood upright, stretching his neck to the right as he extended his shoulder blades. He lifted his arms, ran his hands through his hair, and gave himself one, final check in the mirror before grabbing his topcoat.