After having scrubbed himself clean of all the bbq residue, beer foam, & flop sweat, Ace emerges from the shower feeling like a new man.
Into the closet to put on a clean set of his usual attire, he stretches, flexes, & gyrates until it sits comfortably upon his frame.
He uses his foot like a monkey paw to pick his old & grubby stuff off the floor & hand it to himself with a demented grin.
Transfering all the stuff from the dirty to the clean is an old ritual he acquired after one too many times needing to get dressed in a hurry.
If there's not time to put on fresh clothes then all his stuff will still be in the old pockets for when he has to redress in his grubbies.
Left front pocket in the dirty to left front pocket in the clean, right front to right front, back right to back right, back left to back left, breast to breast, until everything is now where it belongs in his fresh duds.
The old stuff gets wadded into the hamper to be cleaned later, then he sits on the bed to lace on his boots.
Stomp stomp stomp, snug snug snug, do 'em up nice & tight.
There. Dressed & ready to go!
Ace checks first his decoy then his real ComLink to see if there are any new messages waiting, makes a sort of scrunchy indecisive face in contemplation, & puts the decoy back in his pocket.
He pulls out the new CredStick, tosses it up & catches it with a snap, & checks the balance once more to reassure himself that he'll probably make the rent this month after all.
PHEW!
CredStick back in the pocket, standing with hands on knees & groaning like an old man, Ace gets to his feet once again.
"What to do? What to do? I've already ate, lost at poker, nearly gone deaf at the club, & now I'm bored.
Bored, bored, bored. What to do...?"
Ace turns slowly in place as if scanning the place for something interesting to occupy his mind, then sighs in dejection when nothing seems to jump out to grab his attention & give him something to do.
"If I had a girlfriend I could probably try to get laaaa..."
He breaks off that thought as too expensive.
"Nah, a girl would want dinner, flowers, & maybe a movie first. All that costs Cred. Cred I need for rent... and food... and beer... and hot wings...
*BURP*
Aw man, that tasted like tacos. I haven't had tacos in over a week. Yuck!"
Shrugging & giving a resignated sigh, he pulls out his gun cleaning kit & heads for the kitchen table.
He'll strip his weapons, clean 'em, oil 'em, freshen up the clips so they're full, & put everything back together once more.
It'll give him something constructive to do that won't cost him anything but time.
"Dum de dum, doo be doo, rumble de doo, swab swab swab, scrape scrape scrape, oil oil oil, polish polish, the clip spring attaches to the firing pin, the firing pin connects to the slide rule, the slide rule connects to the mizzen mast, the octopus tentacle connects to my ceiling fan, and !THERE! I've got a happy little gun!"
Once the weapons have been cared for & the tools put away, he's left once more bared off his hoop...
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