( None of this is ideal, really, but it's better than he might have expected. Still, with a meagre check and...humble housing, Nanami finds the learning curve to be just a little bit steeper than he's prepared for. He likes to think of himself as adaptable, far more so than his stiff demeanor might suggest, but there are only so many hits to an ego that a man can take before, eventually, he needs to sit down and find a way to carry the burden of his new reality. It is of only moderate consolation, then, that he'd managed to find something somewhat resembling some of his favorite comfort foods at the conbini down the street from his assigned Sutoku housing complex.
He'll make do tonight with a 7-eleven sandwich and a cheap can of Kirin until he can stock his fridge properly. It's difficult to say whether it's worsened or bettered by the view from the balcony: effervescent crowds of monsters (and some humans) below, and the methodical flash of a gradient of neon across the way, advertising a haphazard tower of a variety of shops and entertainment hubs from dollar stores to electronics repairs. It's home, but not home at all, as he settles precariously into the folding patio armchair he'd spent the bulk of his first paycheck on—particularly so when the scent of tobacco wafts his way. He'd never been more than a social smoker, and only in the office because it was easier than the circular offer-and-refusal conversations about it, but the sense of normalcy it invokes is powerful enough for him to pause at his first bite. )
Do you think they sell black-out curtains anywhere, or is this considered natural lighting?
( His delivery is deadpan enough that it might seem like sarcasm. It isn't, though Nanami is already mostly resigned to learning a new set of inconveniences to manage in his afterlife. )
c. sutoku housing
He'll make do tonight with a 7-eleven sandwich and a cheap can of Kirin until he can stock his fridge properly. It's difficult to say whether it's worsened or bettered by the view from the balcony: effervescent crowds of monsters (and some humans) below, and the methodical flash of a gradient of neon across the way, advertising a haphazard tower of a variety of shops and entertainment hubs from dollar stores to electronics repairs. It's home, but not home at all, as he settles precariously into the folding patio armchair he'd spent the bulk of his first paycheck on—particularly so when the scent of tobacco wafts his way. He'd never been more than a social smoker, and only in the office because it was easier than the circular offer-and-refusal conversations about it, but the sense of normalcy it invokes is powerful enough for him to pause at his first bite. )
Do you think they sell black-out curtains anywhere, or is this considered natural lighting?
( His delivery is deadpan enough that it might seem like sarcasm. It isn't, though Nanami is already mostly resigned to learning a new set of inconveniences to manage in his afterlife. )