Raphael was bored. Really, really bored. He was bored enough to go and check in on Leo's meditation session. He was bored enough to go and bug Mikey while he was cooking lunch. And listening to annoying kid pop music in the mix. He was bored enough to go and sit with Don while he was doing who knows what with who knows what that to him consisted of a sheet of thin metal, two wires and a couple of screws. He was even bored enough to ask what the doodad does, and actually sat through the long-winded, rambling explanation. He didn't take much of it in, but hey, he actually listened. He even nodded and asked a few questions here and there.
He couldn't remember ever being this bored in his whole life!
T.V didn't do nothing. Working on his bike was no go. Listening to music, spending time online, looking through the movie collection. Nothing. Nada. Zip. In desperation, he finally started looking over the books that lined some shelves in the living room. Books, for a very long time, were hard to come by, and were treated like gold when found in good condition. But Raph, with few exceptions, was not much of a reader. Now, he was willing to try anything to kill some time. Grabbing a book at random, he flung himself on the couch, and started reading absently.
"Call me Ishmael."
"Huh, what kind of name is dat?" Raph wondered, and for a moment, he was curious enough about the guy with the dumb name to finish the page. Then he read the next one. And slowly read the next. By the time he finished the first chapter, he was too engrossed in the tale of the captain versus the white whale to notice his brothers staring at him with various degrees of shock.