Entry tags:
sunday six
from where the firelight fades ch 11 "carry me home":
"He built a four-meter butterfly-shaped window into his attic," Rena says, looking around the bare room with disgust, fingers clenched painfully tight around their flute. "Look, the floor's scuffed where the direct light is." Judging by the shape all the scuff marks make, Hawkmoth probably made sure to stand in the center of the area marked out by the shadows of the metal arcs, undimmed by the window's weirdly tinted glass, no matter where in the room those shadows fell.
"Must be nice having money," Carapace grumbles. He glances up: "Is that a spotlight? The only light fixture in the whole room, and it's a spotlight?"
"Comic book supervillain lair, maximum drama," Rena reminds him.
"Shut up."
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