Disclaimer: TDK doesn't belong to me. I belong to TDK.
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The light seeps yellow and old from the corner lamp, tracing the shadows in the tiny room with its glow. Legs folded in a jaunty pretzel, he sits on the floor (swept for all its clutter) and flips over another card.
A sound and he flicks a glance at the crumpled form beside him. Just another shadowed lump, but it's shifting, curling a little in on itself. A muffled sigh and it settles like dust on the smooth boards.
He turns his attention back to the game. Solitaire. A distraction. It passes the time, counting minutes in the rhythm of cards turned. Not this one, or this. Nine cards and he can't use any of them. Perhaps he has lost? No, this one he can use. And he does.
When the lump stirs again and opens Gordon's eyes, he puts the cards down. They're only paper after all. He kneels before the other man to watch as he wakes, bleary-eyed and stiff, and licks his lips.
Showtime.