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"OK, I don't think I can play this stupid thing..." Adam mumbled to himself, wanting to chuck the controller across the room, but instead set it down gently, being as it wasn't his video game. With Jarred around again, sleeping was yet again difficult. Also the thought of the Nephilim coming through the wall and stepping on him didn't help either.

Shakily returning to his feet, he allowed Zipper to lead him to Rook and Kat, "Could someone show me where some bowls are, p-please?" He reached out and felt for the counter, Zipper happily trotting over to the food set out for the dogs.

"Ahhhhh...ew ew ewww..." Olivia ventured into the main area, eyes adjusting to the light, "Anyone have dibs on the shower? I can be out of there faster than a military man."

His lip twitched as she paled.
"Relax, Kat. I'm not upset." He left the note about the noise set, knowing she'd pick up the rest.
"Small restaurant. You said you wanted backup... You expecting things to go south? We might want to bring Lou along."

The faint smell of pancakes had awoken Omar and it had raised him from his deep slumber. "Buenos dias Kat!"Omar walked to the windows and opened the blinds letting some sun shine through the house. "Ahhhhh, that's better!" Omar was empowered by the sun rays, it filled his body with life. "Its going to be sunny all day today, I can feel it"

"You can go back to bed, Sam. None of us are telling you got to be up right now."

Rook smiled lightly as Sam replied.
"Think on this next time you sit here and have loud, drunken conversations while I'm asleep, eh?"

Olivia quickly swung open the door to the bathroom a few minutes later, clean and fully clothed, steam billowing into the living area.

One hand threw the towel over a shoulder while the other snatched the TV remote that floated over her head, "So, I smell breakfast. Since I'm not much use with anything else so far at least I can help cook," she sauntered over the to fridge and started rummaging, "I can make some pretty good omelets."

Drawers opened and closed till Adam heard the familiar jingle of silverware. He felt for a spoon and replied, "So, t-they are going to help us?"

It was early morning when Tyson had uncurled from his spot on the floor. Rolling onto his back, he lifted his buttocks into the air, and then raise the rest of his back, suspending himself with his arms and legs. As unusual as the stretch was, he liked it. A lot in fact. He sighed in strange ecstasy as random bones in his spin silently popped into alignment. Letting himself slowly down to get the most out of his stretch, he flipped to his feet, landing quietly on the carpeted floor. He would have followed up with a hand-spin or even a floor fan kick, but the books were in the way.

No matter, the mute would simply find some other way to get himself worked up for the day. He moved over to a blank spot on the wall and began his ritual work out in reverse order of how he usually tried it at the beach. He worked his way into a hand stand and managed to extended his body in a perfect vertical before lowering his body again. His shirt. The room was warm and had no natural air flow that he could feel, not like the open sea. Tyson removed his shirt and tossed it to where he had been laying before. He then hoped himself back int a handstand and strained to get that perfect vertical again. When finally achieved, he began his work out, slowly lowering his body up and down while maintaining balance. Even with years of practice under his belt, this was hard to do, especially when just waking up and groggy. He fell twice and stumbled, leaned dangerously close to one side, and touched the wall multiple times before his guesstimated hour long session was complete. When he examined the window, it was still dark, though sun rays were peeking out of the corner of the window and in the sky. He had time to waist, he figured, and moved the large collection of book carefully to one side of the room, keeping each stack in the same order as they had been before. He even made neater stacks.

With a wide enough area clear away, he could start with his daily Capoeira-esque routine. After a few test flips to see how hard he could flip himself before making a large impact on the carpet floor, he was off into his work out. Flipping, cartwheeling, sweeping, kicking, sweeping, kicking, rolling, jumping, flipping then back flipping. It would have been hard to tell the boy was homeless at one point they way he moved so fluidly and precisely, inside the enclosed area and low roof.

"Have fun being hungover." Rook replied, before helping himself to a glass of OJ from the fridge, "Well, here's for hoping that today goes smoother than last night." He said, raising his glass before taking a drink.