Jim was talking to himself. Loudly, making distinct hand gestures as he did, so engrossed in himself. It was an interesting sight, because it seemed as if he had multiple personas, all of them debating each other.
Sometimes, he did. When nobody was able to keep up but himself. He'd normally use a white wall to project his thoughts out, covering them with his words as he spoke to it, and sorted his plans out.
They were extremely intricate. Plans within plans. Alternatives, patched up loopholes, perfectly knitted strings keeping his spider web together.
He'd left the door open, however, in his excitement to complete his thought process that had started a while ago. Until he reached home, he didn't utter a word, to keep his thoughts contained, and when he did, he started spewing them out, churning out more plans from his brilliant mind.
He kept pacing about, with his hands behind his neck and head turned up to the ceiling as he walked. Slow, calculator steps, and then occasionally talked a bit more to the white wall. He even cracked a few dark jokes at his plan, finding some too good to leave out from it.
He was so absorbed in his thinking, that he didn't notice your muse standing just outside.
VOUS LISEZ
Actor
Aléatoire|| A C T O R || I T || S T O R Y T E L L E R || C R I M I N A L || G E N I U S || P S Y C H O P A T H || Come and play, darling. "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players;" ~William Shakespeare. (Roleplay book)
