fandomtownies | Demon Marcus, Sunday

Sparkle had kind of slept all of yesterday. It was difficult, apparently, to discover the awesome potential you'd inherited from some other poor schmuck when you'd spent the whole damn day in bed, nursing a hangover. And the few times he had woken up, it was in some pretty funky positions. He'd kind of convinced himself he was dreaming, because while he was pretty limber for a teenage boy who didn't actually work out or do stretches or anything, there was no way he could get his body into some of those contortions and actually be comfortable with it.

Today, he was kicking himself for staying in bed yesterday. Hangover gone, he'd pretty much gotten out of bed via a handspring, and after some choice words about that, had decided to put the limitations of his new agility to the test. His chosen method of dragging his ass to work and swearing at all the stairs on the island had changed pretty quickly this morning into his chosen method of freaking parkour, thank you, pausing every now and again to crouch on a ledge in a weird squat and look down over Fandom before springing out over the streets like there wasn't a chance of a splattery death below.

Sparkle's trip to work today had been awesome. But now that he was here, he was grumbling again. Agile as he was today, there really wasn't a hell of a lot he could do when in a clothing store surrounded by racks and displays and fashion dummies. Stupid Sundays. Stupid hangovers. Sparkle was going to spend most of his last day with kickass powers perched on the edge of the counter in another one of those weird little squats, wondering if anyone would notice if he put up a 'back in ten minutes' sign every so often and just ran around the rooftops again.

Demon Marcus was open!

[OOC: Work and other threads ate my brain yesterday so this boy didn't get out, woe. Shame on me. Open!]