Characters: Alfie Solomons, Royce Melborn
Location building 102
Date: evening of 121 through morning of 122
Summary: Alfie and Royce run into each other by chance, and decide to travel together for a few days
Warnings: n/a; will edit if anything comes up

During his week in Norfinbury, Alfie has settled into a tentative schedule. He wakes early, searches the building he'd spent the previous night in, and gets an early start walking. He searches most or all of the buildings he comes across, only finding a place to stay shortly before lockdown begins. By then he's usually too tired to do much physical activity, so he takes care of various other things until he's ready to sleep through to the morning, when it's time to search the building. Rinse, repeat.

On the day of his arrival, he'd told someone - he can't remember who now - that he couldn't imagine having to fight boredom here. Now, seven days in, he's forced to eat his words. His days are monotonous and solitary, and worst of all, they feel pointless. Everything is based around day-to-day survival, and despite the theories and plans flying around, he doesn't feel like anybody is close to escape. He has questions to ask and potential clues to share, but with everybody else worrying about the Joker's bombs, he's holding off.

At least his hearing is back to normal. He's incredibly relieved about that.

When he arrives at his house for the night, he begins his now-familiar routine. His outer clothes (a big coat, and the trash bag that he wears under it) come off immediately, and are set out to dry. The boots are next, as is everything inside of them (socks, plastic sandwich bags, bits of fuzz and insulation). He dries any wet skin off with a piece of dirty paper towel, which is then set out to dry next to the shoes. Now that he has two bath towels, the one that he's been wearing around his shoulders all day (always under his coat and trash bag, but above his vest) gets switched out for the other. Finally, he sinks down into the living room armchair, stretching his legs out and shoving his bare feet under one of the couch cushions. His fingers are worrying him a bit - he's managed to avoid frostbite, but only barely. He's still keeping a close eye on them, tracking their state using his tablet's camera and hoping that the gloves he'd found the day before will help keep them from getting any worse. And that's where he'll be until lockdown - sitting alone, tablet in hand, taking multiple close-up shots of his hands to compare to the previous days' pictures.