[ it's easy for someone with a highly modified frame and a m.i.n.d. to memorize the map he's seen on the subway. but something doesn't feel right.

he seems like he's in deep though, fingers tugging at the stud in his ear. a moment later, he's walking towards what seems like the edge of the map on the hologram, disappearing for a minute and then reappearing in the same spot he's walked into. almost like he himself turned around and walked back—when he knows he didn't.

his m.i.n.d. doesn't notice any dissonance or deviation nor does it recall anything beyond that border, either. ]

What just happened?

[ trying to look for your own clothes? well, look no further.

chrome's seated on one of the benches in front of the laundry machines, retrieving freshly laundered clothes from the basket next to him and neatly folding them on his lap. almost reminiscent like a homestay mother, right? probably because he's housekept for his squad since time immemorial that he's mastered laundry-folding. is that your underwear? yup, it probably is. does he look fazed that he's folding it? not at all.

if you walk up to him, he'll quickly look up, offering a polite nod. ]

Is this yours? My apologies if I've taken the liberty to tidy them.

[ a.k.a. do you need more help? because your basket still has some clothes in it. ]

[ it's a dumb question that's just crossed his mind, the words prompted to be spoken out loud by the sign affixed on the glass. ]

Will the Strike Hawks ever start cleaning up after themselves like actual adults?

[ to be fair, he doesn't really mind being the babysitter slash mother slash cleaning lady of babylonia's foremost scouting and infiltration squad, more than willing to continue to wake up wanshi and sew more pockets on kamui's jacket. but there's a very small, very tiny part of him that sometimes wishes they would grow up no matter how impossible it is.

the machine in front of him whirs, a slip of paper popping out from the small sliver on the surface. ]

... [ is he hesitant to pick it up? yes, his brows furrowed as he stares at the paper. so he turns to the person next to him who also might have gotten a fortune. ] How likely do you think the fortune you've received would come true? Is it close or far from your current reality?

[ want a custom starter? hmu with ideas! feel free to tag with something random too as chrome will be around, exploring this old-world (for him, at least) setting ]