<div align="center"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Thursdy, January 9th - 2:00:00am</strong></span><br/><em>Garage</em></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://img.discogs.com/FiP3LlzfCZUXH3OKK_fNO6GRA2s=/600x745/smart/filters:strip_icc():format(jpeg):mode_rgb():quality(90)/discogs-images/A-2796262-1412178013-1149.jpeg.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>WHO:</strong> Kaine Brooks (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=316749.msg15291877#msg15291877)<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong> Tank Top, Coveralls(around his waist) Sweats, Boots<br/><strong>DOING:</strong> Not sleeping, staying busy since he's not sleeping<br/><strong>NOTE:</strong> <br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong> Marley</span><br/><hr/><br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">--Thirty Minutes Ago--</span></div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Every few minutes for the past two hours he'd rolled over to stare at his alarm clock. And every time he did, he'd see that only a few minutes had passed since his last look. It was happening again. The sleepless nights came often, and as tired as he got, he was grateful for them as the opposite was usually horrific nightmares. He'd rather stay awake forever than see a friend die in his dreams yet again.<br/><br/> Sighing loudly, he accepted that his eyes wouldn't be closing any time soon, so he got up, put on some of his greasy clothes, and headed downstairs. Thankfully, his speed could also be utilized for silence, as his footfalls were too fast to make noise. So before he could make a peep, he was outside on the steps, looking up at the sky. He didn't even notice he was twirling his hand to change the climate until the first flake of snow fell onto the cool sands before him.<br/><br/> When he thought about it, clearly his logic was that if it was made even colder tonight, then in the morning when the sun rose and the snow started to melt, the area around the Cathedral would stay cool for longer. <em>Maybe</em> he had another reason, but it would take something or someone stronger than him to make him admit it. After staring at the beauty of his handiwork, he got up and walked through the whitening sands around the house and to the garage. <br/><br/>Because it was built to house cars for a mansion, the garage was basically a house itself, with room for multiple cars at once, and even a second story with offices and stuff. He and Tristyn both had storage rooms they used as beds when they were too tired to walk back to the main house. He looked around for a bit to find his toolbox, then flipped the lights and pulled out the space heaters since he wanted to see the snow while he worked. <br/><br/>With all his tools in his hand, he walked over to Betty (https://cdn.motor1.com/images/mgl/1YbO9/s1/new-inkas-sentry-apc-puts-all-other-armored-suvs-to-shame.jpg), a military-grade, armored truck he'd found sitting pristine and unused after the Eclipse. The poor bastards using it had gotten killed before they even made it into the warehouse. Since then he'd been using it for his missions, and kept it in tip-top shape. <br/><br/>He even added a gun emplacement on the roof because the world was fucking crazy now, and the extra protection didn't hurt, nor did the second look people gave when they saw that 50. cal vulcan cannon up top. He then walked over to Betty, popped the hood, and leaned down to see what needed fixing. "Damn...gotta figure out a way to keep sand from gettin' fucking everywhere in this thing. It's annoying at this point," he groaned to no one but himself as he started his work.<br/><br/></span><br/>