"I have a compartmentalization system, and one rule: Don't touch my s&^%."
| Apartment Complex |
|---|
| It's Gothic City. What the hell did you expect? |
The bachelor’s pad. The no-man’s land. The demilitarized zone.
Why Ronin always takes a girl to a motel after a date.
The door remains boarded at all times with wooden boards, trash, and a piece of furniture or two. Never opened unless the window is needed an alternative escape route or entrance, the curtains block any all light that should be in the place. Only a few dimly lit light bulbs give any semblance of visibility. At least the bathroom is functioning and well-kept.
Trash bags filled with trash or various miscellaneous items litter the room. Certain bags are labeled with numbers while others with letters. A few have both. The fridge is functioning but the only items on the menu are takeout, canned goods, or protein bars with the occasional odd pizza or ice cream box.
The AC units huff and puff, sounding like a broken car engine, and a measly air freshener tree hanging over it that is two months old or older.
The only relatively clean place is the workbench and the desk next to it with a few forensic tools and case files. Pictures and maps are set up against the wall, marking various locations and individuals of interest. A couple cabinets sit side-by-side next to the desk and bench.
The bed is covered with various half-opened and half-empty boxes and is a general mess of blankets with a few sleeping bags sitting atop for compartmental reasons.
Just his good old cozy home.
OOC:
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