The man lay sprawled out on a broken down armchair, picking at bits of chair fluff that poked out from a hole. It was dark in the room; the kind of dark that made your mind silent. The kind of dark that made people look in the corners of their eyes to check for monsters. The man was too far away at the moment to be scared. Drifting on the edges of drunkeness, a haze settled in his head. It was evident what he had been up to by the smell and empty bottles by his chair, though the smell wasn't that offensive compared to the stench of rot and wet the room gave off.
There was silence for a very long time, as the green haired man seemed to contemplate over the discolored chair fluff he had been pulling out at a steady rate. It had no purpose anymore, just keeping a molding chair ready for people who would never sit in it again. It was a sad chair really.
Faintly, as the man gazed at the steadily sagging arm rest, he registered a noise. It was annoying, resisting his attempts to drone it out and suddenly painfully loud in his head. He unceremoniously batted at the shape in front of him, as if waving away a fly before something grabbed his wrist tightly, jolting his eyes open all the way.
He didn't feel so good anymore, looking at the face in front of him. It made him think of what a failure he had been today. It made him think of children on the ground bleeding and gasping for air. The face moved, eyes closing and unclosing, mouth opening up to let sounds out. There was a name at the tip of his tongue but his mouth couldn't reach it. (or maybe that was his brain? He didn't remember which was right.)
It wasn't important right now, he supposed. Just a name to the face in front of him that was poking at him and making loud violent noises. With a sigh the man turned over to go to sleep ignoring the other person in the room beside his chair.