Eugene is holding one of Dana’s pistols. It feels odd in his hand. It pales in comparison to a conduit’s abilities, but remains effective enough. And painful.
There’s an awkward, unsure look on his face as he tries to line up a shot.
Clearly, he has no idea what he’s doing.
The light of the monitor is starting to strain his eyes. It’s as if he blinked and suddenly it’s past midnight. Eugene leans back.
He checks the time on his phone and skims through his missed texts.
He needs a new wardrobe. ‘Gamer chic’ is getting old, but he can’t imagine himself wearing anything else. Digging around his closet, he realizes he has a single nice outfit. A red suit. Burgundy. Maroon?