Snippet #2294050

The younger siblings of the Paterson clan still attending Sunny High had their rooms in the manor, as did the older siblings if they so wished, provided that they had careers of their own or were attending university. Sean Paterson fit in neither category -- too old for high school and too unfocused for a job or Sunny U -- and so had for the past few years been relegated to what was known as the shed; something of a studio apartment unattached to the rest of the manor, situated lower on the gently-sloping lawns at the back of the estate. Without even a kitchenette, though, every morning he would eventually make his way into the house proper. This morning the journey took place sometime after 10am, when hunger had finally outweighed the morning-after languor from his night partying. Slipping into the previous night's jeans and white undershirt with their pervasive odor of cigarettes, he stumbled out of the shed, blinking blearily at the sun before donning his sunglasses.

He passed Marcus exercising within the tennis court -- mumbled a greeting with a wave as he shuffled past, wrinkled jeans scuffing the pavement with each step of his bare feet. Entering through the great glass sliding door from the patio, he made his way to the kitchen, pouring himself some still-warm coffee prepared earlier by a more enterprising Paterson. Tepidity notwithstanding, the coffee slowly did its trick and after finishing the mug Sean felt ready to have a go at breakfast.

Tranquility restored, he was almost dapper as he passed the two teens conversing at the side of the court; Marcus and Ramona looking almost like twins with their similar hair and builds. Although Sean too possessed the family's notable blonde locks, his were in fact due more to sun and pool chlorine than genetics, and always threatened to turn a dull brown. "Hello, hello," he greeted with a poor stab at a British accent as he passed the two, making his way to the shed to change into swimming trunks.

After a few laps of the pool to clear his head and work out the last remnants of the previous night's recreational poisons, Sean showered, shaved and changed into his usual calculated scruffy look, looking like a model posing as a hobo, or perhaps vice versa. He had agreed to pick up a shift at the Pawprint for one of his siblings, and was due at the cafe in a few hours. Although he'd enjoyed working there in his teens, now Sean loathed the Pawprint as it forced him to evaluate his life. He knew he was a wastrel, but he preferred not to be reminded of that fact -- as the twenty-six-year-old was reminded every time he picked up a shift at the same job he'd once had as a kid each summer.