Apollo was a morning person. This fact surprised most anyone who had met him after 10:30, which was about the time he crashed and became extremely grumpy. That being said, anyone who met him earlier than that, typically wanted to smash his skull into the nearest hard surface repeatedly. Today was no different, the first high pitch tone hadn't even finished its sound when Apollo was already sitting up in bed turning it off. It was 4:30 AM. Apollo painfully remembered he had yet again fallen asleep without changing. His tie was wrapped around his throat in an even more complicated and messier knot than usual. It won't have been the first time Apollo had shown up in the office and had to ask Mr. Wright to help him with his tie. It was an art Apollo was still struggling to master, and one which occasionally slipped his mind altogether.

Fighting the tie off his head, Apollo rolled over to relieve the pain in his mid-drift where his belt was cutting into his skin. Apollo had the same trouble most tall and scrawny men did, to get the correct leg length, it generally meant going up a size in the waist. The only practical solution, that didn't involve tailors or custom orders, was a belt, typically cinched into the smallest hole.

Apollo swung his legs over the edge of his bed, stood up, and promptly fell over. Both feet were still asleep, probably because he was still wearing his dress-shoes, which were cheap and a size to small. Apollo had been fighting the urge to duct-tape the places were the stitches were splitting, but knew he would eventually have to accept that he needed to buy new ones. Where exactly he would get that money he wasn't sure, things had been tough at the firm for quite some time.

Apollo dis-attached the shoes from his feet and tossed them a few yards away onto the landing near his front door. Trying again, Apollo stood and wandered to his bathroom mirror.

More than one person had asked him in his lifetime, why exactly he wore his hair the way he did? Normally he brushed it off with a joke, or at lest attempted to sound like it was intentional, the truth was the complete opposite. Apollo's two "antenna", were actually what all the rest of his hair looked like. At 4:45 in the morning, Apollo's hair was as spiky as it got, and no offence to Mr. Wright, but Apollo considered spiky hair unprofessional. Apollo took special pains to make sure his hair was as flat as it could possibly be, he did this by using more hair products than Trucy probably owned. In fact, Apollo knew it was more than she owned. There had been a few occasions, in the tight hours before a trial, that Apollo needed emergency hair spray and, daringly, adventured into Trucy's room to borrow some. At least one of these ended with Mr. Wright nearly firing him. ...he could be over-protective about his "daughter".

Apollo reviewed his plans for this morning, he had to pick up his dry-cleaning, that was definitely first. He was also running low and food... He could get that done this morning, he didn't have to be to the office until nine. But... he couldn't go out looking like he did. That was, to be specific, grey slacks he had just slept in, a sweat stained white dress shirt, and an over-sized blazer Mr. Wright had given to him as a hand-me-down, with the promise that "he would grow into it".

Apollo stretched and cracked his back, not much to do but raid his closet... as unpromising as it might be. With one last vengeful look at his hair in the mirror, which really wouldn't be so bad if he would wash the product out the night before, he stalked out of the room, throwing his jacket and shirt on the floor as he went,

He came back momentarily, his slacks traded in for faded blue jeans that were equally, if not more so, wrinkled. They also sported several holes around the knees and the frays at the cuff line. And, again, much like his previous trousers, they were far to large in the waist but only just covered his socks.

Apollo fixed his belt and tucked his t-shirt in, amazingly this article of clothing actually fit him, being neither to large or too small. That was pretty much Apollo's miracle for the day. Lastly, he tugged a pull-on red hoddie over his head. He'd had it since about 8th grade, it was over-sized then, but Apollo figured he would have grown into it by now. Sadly, it was still fairly baggy on his slim frame.

"Whatever...", Apollo mumbled, twisting his head over his shoulder as he rotated his torso, to get a better look in the mirror. Grabbing a base ball cap that had hung on the back of the bathroom door for as long as Apollo could remember, he shoved his unruly hair underneath it. Unsatisfied he turned it backwards, his two antenna popped out from underneath the front.

That was about as good as it was gonna get, he figured. Sooner he went to the dry cleaners and picked up his two parts of a three piece suit, the sooner he could stop feeling like an awkward teenager who just went shopping by himself for the first time.

Bursting out the front door of his apartment, Apollo walked down the street with his typical jubilant stride. He whistled tunelessly, as he wandered past the various buildings he'd learned to call his neighborhood. These were the few precious hours Apollo had to relax and enjoy his simple state of being. As soon as the clock struck nine, Apollo was a lawyer again. He'd have a full morning of filing paperwork, answering telephone calls, placating clients, and basically doing everything a paralegal should be doing, if the firm had had the funds to hire one. With Apollo doing most of the grunt work for Nick, he hardly had the time to take on any of his own cases. The last case had been a disaster, Apollo won (barely), but succeeded in giving himself a panic attack the day before. He spent the majority of the night before the trial throwing up in his bathroom.

So, Apollo cherished these early hours. They were free of worry, responsibility, and stress, all things Apollo had far too much of during the rest of his waking hours.

Turing the corner, Apollo spotted the dry cleaners, he also spotted a sign that said they didn't open until 6:30. Which, for a dry cleaners, is pretty early. Apollo shrugged it off, there was a 24/7 market a few block away, he'd do his shopping first and pick up his clothes on the way back. Also, he rather fancied the girl who worked the night shift there, and she was getting off work in less than an hour. Apollo mentally chided himself, knowing full well it was a hopeless endeavor, but never the less continued steadily down the side walk.

The automatic doors slid apart for Apollo as he entered, the store was small. You could spit to the other side if you felt like it. Out of the corner of his eye, Apollo caught sight of the girl behind the checkout counter, looking as thoroughly disinterested as she always did. Her bubble gum popped as she continued to peruse a kinky magazine, full of girls who she'd never be as pretty as. The girl at checkout was, for lack of a better word, very averrage. She had brown, limp hair, a chest that was all but hidden under a sweatshirt, and a little extra fat here and there. But, there was something about her Apollo couldn't pinpoint and couldn't get enough of. Maybe he just spent so much time around crazy people, her normalcy was simply a pleasant change.

"Hello," Apollo manged as he collected his groceries on the counter. He smiled, as genuinely as he could with her mascara smeared eyes staring him down with an intensity he didn't get from most of his bitterest rivals.

"What happened to the monkey suit?" She said, daring him to answer. Not waiting for a response, she dragged her slouched form away from the counter and over to the cash register. Apollo took that moment to glance at the still open magazine on the counter, quickly wishing he hadn't. The two page spread featured several young people modeling tattoos and piercings in places Apollo had no desire to see.

"Umm," he stuttered, trying to bleach the images from his mind, "the dry-cleaners. I'm picking it up next."

"Uh-huh," she responded, hardly listening as she hit the cash register several times. Eventually it "Ka-ching"'ed open, and she made change. Turing towards him to give him his receipt and money, she caught his perturbed look and quickly traced it back to the magazine. "You want it or something?" she held up the magazine, "Seriously, you can take it if you want. Some bozo left it here earlier, and I sure as hell don't want it."

Apollo shook his head hard, trying to avoid looking at the cover. "N-no, that's alright." He grabbed his bags and change blindly as he turned for the door. He could hear the girl laughing behind him.

"Suit yourself, I wouldn't want this trash either."

Apollo risked one final look behind him, their eyes met in the briefest glance. Then, nothing. She had gone back to work putting more paper in the receipt machine and Apollo was already out the doors and into the morning air.

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