#since Breakwood has an apartment he's probably got his gunsafe elsewhere...

[druidx]

Paint a picture of a character by describing their bedroom while they’re not in it.

Here is the 1st of the writing exercises from this post for Farren.

Tagging op of that post @davycoquette as requested :) & @aquadestinyswriting as per

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Dt. Breakwood's bedroom is… Well. If a thief broke in, he'd think the place already tossed. A musky, manly odour pervades the space, joined with nicotine and the ethanolic scent of aftershave. Light filters in from a high window on the right wall, through undrawn flimsy cream curtains. They flutter, as if the window behind is cracked open. From the door you can see the room is… cosy, to be polite.

A double bed is to your right, a nightstand on each side. The covers are runkled – flung back on rising and never set right – but only on the side nearest the door. Likewise, only the nightstand closest to is covered in an assortment of pens, notepads, and other clutter. A radio sits on top of a Haynes manual for a Pontiac Trans Am, the water glass nudged perilously close to the edge. The other nightstand has a plain vase with a single, dusty, red silk rose.

Under the window is a bureau, the space just wide enough to pull back the chair. Amidst the clutter of curving correspondence, typed bills, paperweights, and treasury tags, is a small bowl containing a selection of keys, hard candy, chapstick and other pocket paraphernalia. On the top ledge, covered in a light film of dust, are a few framed photos – of Dt. Breakwood and a statuesque woman, both in wedding attire outside of a church; of a little dark-haired girl, all smiles and dimples; a black-and-white of a stern and worn looking couple in fashion from an older time, and draped over the frame, a sun motif necklace. A dusty succulent in a dry and chipped saucer, hangs over the end, partly obscuring candid Polaroids of colleagues from a recent party, tacked to the side of the bureau. You don't see any other keepsakes in here – most are in the condo's lounge.

A large, built-in wardrobe sits at the end of the bed with only a few feet of clearance between. Fortunately, the doors slide aside – with tall, rectangular faux-wood panels collected at one end to reveal the occupant's shirts and flares, some having fallen from their hangers, and socks dripping from part-closed drawers. To each side of the wardrobe is a wicker chair. To the left, the chair is olive green and covered with jeans, underwear, leisure pants; it's hard to tell the clean from the used. The maroon chair on the right is empty of clothing. Instead it seats two stuffed animals: a small teddy bear, with close-curled buttercream fur and a large squarish owl, with red body, a white breast and a beak flattened with love.