![]() ![]() One could, quite literall y, just throw a l eg over a nd they’ d be ins ide hi s fl at. His windows are incredibly low set, providing easy entry for any entitl ed shit-faced intruder to hop in w ithout any difficult y w hatsoever. ![]() ![]() His room sits on the ground, he once again notes with distaste. F eeling a bit poetic (this is, after all, the opening scene to his tragedy) he sashays to the window, peering out at the ancient buildings entwined with ivy, settled in the vibrant green grass before him. With a plonk that seems at odds with the fine setting, Louis drops his armful of bags and bits, sighing dramatic ally as he surveys his surroundings. And “keeping it in check” is just something Louis does not do. His mother always said his fiery tongue would be his downfall, were he not able to keep it in check. (N o, he hasn’t met said flatm ate yet, and no, he doesn’t need to in order to form judgment.) Louis has never been equipped to handle these situations with much grace. Friends, if anything), he’s now contractually obligated to share HIS space with some pretentious twat who shits money and plays a pretty game of thinly veiled superiorit y. ![]()
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