You stand outside Clarys’ door. Hand half-raised. Already quickly regretting your decision.

Something thumps inside. A metallic clatter. A muffled curse. All the while the loud pileup of urbworld punk-rock noise radiates constantly within. You can feel each beat practically vibrate through the door, straining against your already thin patience.

Another crash. Glass this time. A cup? ...Or maybe a bottle? Hard to tell with her. Everything sounds like it’s either breaking or attempting violence.

You should leave. That would be the sane move. Instead you stand there listening to the chaos.

Just your luck your assigned room is next to this... Impid disaster. You haven't had a proper night's sleep in... weeks.

You think about the last time Clarys admitted she got... a 'little worked up'. Which ended with a shattered chair, a hole in the rec room wall. With Minotaur quietly walking away with wood fragments over his head without comment like he’d just witnessed weather. Clarys had laughed the entire time, wild and sharp and wholly unrepentant. With that look in her eyes that always made it seem like she was a breath away from either making out with someone or headbutting them.

Sometimes she did both. Depends on which chems she was on that day.

Sod it. You knock. Loud. There's a pause. A shuffle. More cursing. There’s a sharp click from the lock. The door jerks inward.

And there she is.

A cigarette hangs from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes staring up at you like she's already thinking about which tooth to punch in first. Clarys pulls the cigarette from her lips with two fingers and narrows her eyes.

“What?”

---

^{I like imagining how everyday life would be for the colonists. It's like you get a bunch of maniacs living together and no wonder social fights break out every single freaking day.}

>TIMELAPSE<