<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/46/50/c7/4650c7382fd84b8ff81231c191efb351.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name</strong>: Randall Shaw (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=264761.msg13090443#msg13090443)<br/><strong>Time &amp; Location</strong>: June 3rd, Morning | Randall's house<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: Faded, stained, ripped black jeans and an old, sleeveless Van Halen t-shirt with black Vans<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Xavier | Open<br/><strong>Content</strong>: Pizza for breakfast<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Randall had been up late the night before, participating in a few races in Topanga Canyon.  The fun had lasted until about four in the morning, and then he and a few others had stopped off at a diner for breakfast, before heading home.  All in, he'd not collapsed, unwashed, into bed until five thirty, just as the sky was starting to soften with the first light of dawn.  Even so, his body wouldn't let him sleep too late in the day, so he woke around eleven with a feeling of over-all grossness from having not brushed his teeth, showered or changed out of his clothes the night before.<br/><br/>He rolled out of bed with a groan and glanced at himself in the gilt-framed mirror on the floral wall across from his bed, wincing at the view.  "Damn, dude...and you wonder why you're single?"  He flicked the on-switch on his stereo, and flooded his bedroom and adjoining bathroom with the dulcet sounds of the Rolling Stones.  Singing along, he hopped around the messy room, struggling to peel off his dirty jeans without falling over, and tossed them on the pile in the corner of the room.  He followed them with his underwear and t-shirt, making a mental note to do some laundry, 'cause the pile was getting too high.  Scratching the back of his head, he padded barefoot into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it get hot while he brushed his teeth and used the facilities...though not at the same time.<br/><br/>The hot water, clean mouth and vigorous scrubbing did wonders for how he felt, and by the time he climbed out of the shower, he was feeling a hundred percent better.  And hungry.  He pulled on a set of clean clothes and combed his thick, curly blond hair back out of his face, tying it off at the nape of his neck.  Before he left his room with an armful of dirty laundry, he turned off the radio.  The noises of Xavier unloading the truck finally struck him as he passed through the kitchen to the laundry/mud room behind it.  "Yo, what's up!?"  He called back through the house as he dumped his clothes into the washer and added an unspecified amount of soap before turning it on.  Yes, he knew how to properly do laundry, his mother had taught him early on and he'd done theirs for years, since she worked two jobs to support them.  But, when it came to his clothes, he rarely cared enough to do things the right way.  The clothes got just as clean when you half-assed it.<br/><br/>He wandered back into the kitchen and perked at the sight of pizzas on the counter.  "Aww...Xav, you're the best wife a guy could ask for."  He smirked as he snatched the pizzas up and transferred them from box to oven, setting the temp and timer before wandering outside to the driveway.  Blinking, he peered at the truck, then hopped up inside it where Xavier was readying to move out another load.  "Hey, did you buy the whole store?  Were we<em>that</em>low on stuff?  Shit, I need to pay more attention.  Want a hand?"<br/>