Wes throws his jacket roughly against the floor as he himself falls like a ragdoll onto the worn couch. His tanned form seems to meld seamlessly into the thick orange fabric, only separated by errant stains whose origin he dares not ponder.
The instant he feels the cold material against his face, he has already decided he will not be moving today. His limbs dangle limply off the sides as if all muscle had been removed from them, somehow absorbed into the upholstry.
He doesn't even care about the grunts running around him, and the nearly constant, loudly echoing sound of aluminum falling to the bottom of the vending machine. It's not his problem.
"Get up."
"No."
"You're still on duty."
"No, I'm not."
He finally looks up weakly to identify the source of the voice. Gonzap looms over him with his formidable arms crossed. His protruding eyebrows are furrowed low on his forehead.
"How can you be so lazy?"
Wes simply chuckles and points to the decaying walls that surround the main office. Yet more unidentified stains permeate the lining, and small holes are patched with yellowed newspapers. Occasional pages come loose and fall to the ground, to become trampled so thoroughly that they become part of the floor itself. He is fairly certain that a rodent's paradise lies somewhere within the empty space.
"I learned from the best."
The remark earns him a forceful shove back into the cushion.
And he still doesn't care.