Mark found himself face down on the smooth wooden paneled floor when he woke up. He groaned, barely a croak coming from his parched throat. She pushed himself up, one of his legs still caught on the rocking chair he used as a bed. He cursed, getting to his feet rather nimbly despite the aching. He brought a hand to his back, giving himself a good stretch before he made his way to the second floor. He huffed and puffed he way up the wooden steps, thanking his decision years ago to change the railings along the stairs and reinforce them. On the first landing, he stopped the rest at a drawer filled with all sorts of memorabilia to catch his breath. It did not take too long before he was already washing up and peeking out of the blinds suspiciously as the sound of chirping birds reached his ears.<br/><br/>He hurried down the steps, two at a time at a speed which would horrify others who saw him doing it at his age. A fall down a flight of steps could be fatal, so he heard. So all he needed to do was to make sure he did not end up tripping or landing flat on his face. He stopped at the entrance, picking up a cane, something he thought would be a poor alternative to the dual-barreled shotgun which was well within his reach at the moment, along with several shells. He stepped out onto the porch, his pale blue eyes catching on a pair of birds getting cosy in his lawn. "Oi!" His feet swept forward, waving his cane violently at the birds to ward them off. Luckily for them, they took flight immediately when they saw the person of mass destruction began to descend on them at the pace of a tortoise. "Goddamit!" He said, waving his cane, his words echoing rather childishly in the empty surroundings. He turned around and when back into the shade of his porch.