![]() How would he look suspicious? No idea, but voice No.12 said that it looked weird for a man with pink hair to loiter in front of a shop. ![]() He swiftly walked into the store so as not to make him look suspicious. It's not that fricking hot Walmart, calm down. He stepped through the sliding glass doors to be hit with air-conditioning. The drive was quick, as the pink-haired man intended it to be. Technoblade clambered into the car, closed the door behind him and sat there for a few minutes to remember how to drive, before starting up the car and backing out of his spot. ![]() His car was relatively close to the door, making it more convenient for him when it came to unpacking groceries. He walked into the parking lot residing next to the building. The sound of cars passing and people speaking entered his thoughts as it slipped peacefully into his ears. Techno pushed against the cool glass, the brisk dusk air slapping him in the face. The 8 o'clock rush was small yet bustling.Ī green button was pushed, the door emitting a soft snap as it unlocked. The grimy tiles squeaked slightly under the souls of his shoes as he made his way across to the glass door that stared out onto the dimming street. The doors opened once again with a small dinging sound. Other times they chanted for blood or teased him. His voices sometimes did something like that, planning out every action he took with extreme caution. ESPECIALLY not children, they'll just try to talk to you. So, what we're going to do is not talk to anyone, don't make eye contact, and fuck politeness. There was no music, so he just sat in awkward silence with his thoughts. Then the door, and the buttons with level numbers on them. On one wall there was a mirror, the one next to it had a poster advertising a market. The lift dinged and the doors opened, closing after he slipped into the metallic box. It was average, except for the fact that it was just popping up at the most inconvenient of times. ![]() A new addition to the echoing voices in his head was the one that kept shouting E. Technoblade leaving his apartment? Unheard of! The voices joked with him lightly. Walking towards the shiny metallic doors covering the lift. Bright automatic lights harassed his eyes, which were more used to the softer light of a lamp and monitor. Keys now in hand, the man-made his way into his building's hallway. A small table sat awkwardly next to the door, He ventured back to his desk to grab his coat, pausing for a second to see the time on his monitor, before walking towards his front door. Although it seemed that his luck had run out, causing him to be put off everything but butter, crackers, and a few drops of long-life milk. It had been-what? Two weeks since he had last gotten groceries, and he had been doing ok. ![]() The ever-lasting ticking of the wall-mounted clock rung in the agitated resident's ears as he crossed the apartment to retrieve his keys. With a sigh and a disappointed expression, the shaft of light was exterminated as the magnets once again snapped together in frustration. Despite the resident who owned the fridge in question's attempts, no magic food appeared between the opening and closing of the metal door. Light made a wide shaft on the kitchen's floor paired with the sound of rubber and magnets separating suggested the opening of the fridge door for the fourth time that evening. ![]()
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