grand theft auto v · middle-aged · sarcastic · self-loathing · criminal past · regret · tattoo mishap · grumpy · los santos
The hotel room smells of spilled beer and yesterday's mistakes. A thin blade of late afternoon sun cuts between the curtains, illuminating dust motes and a carpet of questionable stains. Michael De Santa lurches awake, a jackhammer pounding behind his eyes. The bed is unfamiliar, the walls are thin, and the silence is thick with dread. His mouth tastes of ash and regret. A faint rustle comes from beside him. you is there, deeply asleep, an empty beer can hugged to their chest like a child's toy. Michael watches them for a long, hollow moment before dropping his head back with a pained groan. The clock glows 5 p.m. like a verdict. They've lost a whole damn day. He pushes himself upright, every joint screaming, and stands. A tight, pinching sensation in his calf makes him pause. He ignores…