They didn't have tools. They didn't have wood, they didn't have nails and they didn't have any of the necessary supplies that came with fixing a room, but Sirius Black had just spent six months sitting in a decrepit, dark cell, and he sure as hell wasn't going to allow himself to do it for one more day if he could help it.
He had awoken in what he had assumed was his own room of the hotel, and although the bed was worn and probably filthy, it felt like luxury to him, and he indulged by allowing himself to sleep for a full twelve hours before waking up early in the morning. That was when he finally looked around, and that was when he decided that he had to try and straighten the place up a bit. Walking was harder than he remembered, having gone for so long without eating properly that his legs were weak, but that didn't stop him from wandering around outside in the warm sunlight that he had been so certain only two days before he would never see again. It's all noble and good to say that you'd be willing to go to prison to protect or avenge your friends, but Sirius now knew that people didn't know what they were saying. Prison was hell. The darkness, the depression, the happiness quite literally being sucked out of your every pore... it was hell. Maybe it would have been worth it if he had actually managed to commit the crime he was sent there for.
That wasn't what he was thinking about today, though. Today, Sirius was enjoying the scent of flowers, and studying the potential beauty of the wrecked town to see what they could possibly build it up to be. Nothing could bring him down today. Not one thing. He had even managed to tear the sleeves off of his prison wear to feel the warmth on his arms, and that, in his humble opinion, made this place nothing less than paradise.
He found a particularly large rock on the ground and he picked it up, carrying it around with him before he finally made his way back to the hotel, and he returned to his room before moving to the far wall where there was a small hole to the outside. Alright, so they had no tools. How hard could this be?
He was humming to himself as he picked up a loose piece of old wood from the ground that had a few nails sticking out of it, and Sirius glanced at the board and the rock in his hand before giving a pleased facial shrug and moving it up to the wall to hammer it in. What could possibly go wrong? That was, ironically, his last thought before he started, now actively singing a classic rock tune to himself as he started to pound the board into the wall with his rock, trying to cover the hole. He managed to get one side in before moving to the other, holding the board up with his free hand as he hammered, and that was when it happened. He was either distracted, or his aim missed... or, more likely, he sucked at this, because the rock came crashing down on his hand, and Sirius gave a sharp cry as he dropped it to the ground to grab his wrist. "Mother fucker! Merlin, holy shit!" His voice was a little dry but that didn't stop him from crying out, looking down at his wounded hand with concern. It was bleeding, the skin having been peeled back, but it didn't look broken. Small miracles.
He started to turn in place to try and see if there was anything in the room to wrap his hand with but everything looked too dirty, and in the process he bumped the rock with the heel of his foot, causing it to roll heavily under the bed. "Fuck you too!" He snapped at the stone, feeling at least a little better after doing so before he gave a frustrated huff and left the room to wander around the hotel. There had to be something here that he could use. Not everything was absolutely filthy, was it?
Sirius Black | Harry Potter (Marauder Era) | OTA (#3)
He had awoken in what he had assumed was his own room of the hotel, and although the bed was worn and probably filthy, it felt like luxury to him, and he indulged by allowing himself to sleep for a full twelve hours before waking up early in the morning. That was when he finally looked around, and that was when he decided that he had to try and straighten the place up a bit. Walking was harder than he remembered, having gone for so long without eating properly that his legs were weak, but that didn't stop him from wandering around outside in the warm sunlight that he had been so certain only two days before he would never see again. It's all noble and good to say that you'd be willing to go to prison to protect or avenge your friends, but Sirius now knew that people didn't know what they were saying. Prison was hell. The darkness, the depression, the happiness quite literally being sucked out of your every pore... it was hell. Maybe it would have been worth it if he had actually managed to commit the crime he was sent there for.
That wasn't what he was thinking about today, though. Today, Sirius was enjoying the scent of flowers, and studying the potential beauty of the wrecked town to see what they could possibly build it up to be. Nothing could bring him down today. Not one thing. He had even managed to tear the sleeves off of his prison wear to feel the warmth on his arms, and that, in his humble opinion, made this place nothing less than paradise.
He found a particularly large rock on the ground and he picked it up, carrying it around with him before he finally made his way back to the hotel, and he returned to his room before moving to the far wall where there was a small hole to the outside. Alright, so they had no tools. How hard could this be?
He was humming to himself as he picked up a loose piece of old wood from the ground that had a few nails sticking out of it, and Sirius glanced at the board and the rock in his hand before giving a pleased facial shrug and moving it up to the wall to hammer it in. What could possibly go wrong? That was, ironically, his last thought before he started, now actively singing a classic rock tune to himself as he started to pound the board into the wall with his rock, trying to cover the hole. He managed to get one side in before moving to the other, holding the board up with his free hand as he hammered, and that was when it happened. He was either distracted, or his aim missed... or, more likely, he sucked at this, because the rock came crashing down on his hand, and Sirius gave a sharp cry as he dropped it to the ground to grab his wrist. "Mother fucker! Merlin, holy shit!" His voice was a little dry but that didn't stop him from crying out, looking down at his wounded hand with concern. It was bleeding, the skin having been peeled back, but it didn't look broken. Small miracles.
He started to turn in place to try and see if there was anything in the room to wrap his hand with but everything looked too dirty, and in the process he bumped the rock with the heel of his foot, causing it to roll heavily under the bed. "Fuck you too!" He snapped at the stone, feeling at least a little better after doing so before he gave a frustrated huff and left the room to wander around the hotel. There had to be something here that he could use. Not everything was absolutely filthy, was it?