The way he woke up, the where, the who he found himself looking at, face to face. The smirk that would play on his face, as a swell of pride came upon him. He had to get home, there were plans to set up. Everything needed to happen, as he realized there was an upper hand to be played here. It didn't turn out that way, but he did attempt to. A race home left him digging through drawers. Everything was a mess, but Floyd didn't know what it was. There was no understanding of purpose when it all was found. How it would work, what it would do. It was just another gadget to him. Some random gizmo he could make a quick buck off of.
But with this as his main train of thought, it was easy to shove it in some place and not hold another thought about it. It seemed broken, not working to any specific purpose. Maybe good for spare parts? He didn't know or care. Too many other issues came up during the weeks. Until now. Until this moment.
The room was a mess. Drawers and cabinets pulled open, items thrown about on the floor, on cabinets, desks, chairs. He didn't care what was going to happen here, he didn't care about the business. He wanted what was his. What happened to everyone else didn't matter. Only this one thing. It meant life for him, otherwise he was stuck here pretending to be normal. Just another version of Floyd.
Those flashes of red were out there. Those that thought they were better. They had to see otherwise. He would make them all see. The confusion was still there, the flickers from his past, but enough that he understood who he was. Coming around more and more.
The glint of silver metal caught his eye. Unlike the others, it held its own specific appreciation. All he needed, it was all he needed now or ever. He could change his own life here, make it for the better. The smile growing from the smirk as his eyes went wide. The excitement bubbling in his stomach and into his chest.
"Yes! Finally." The last word a near groan, but he felt like a school girl at this point. The entire vibe of this changing. He was getting somewhere, no matter where it led, he was going to be happy. He would have to come up with money, a plan, a direction. Tests would have to be run because this wasn't home. It wasn't a real home. How did he end up in Boston and why was there no such thing as Keystone City? The woman had believed him to have lost his mind when he tried to explain where home was. The ticket he wanted to change to.
Hand running over the metal, he pressed his lips against it. An emotional moment, it may as well have been a lost child. Not that he was about to have one of those. Thankful for small miracles, he wasn't paying enough attention to his own surroundings when he moved to take his own next steps. Finding all he needed, moving away from the counter and open drawer, he took one step and tripped.
With all of his throwing things about, scatterbrained and lost in his own thoughts, what was on the floor held no consequence to him. Not until this moment.
The swift turn, he not only nicked his hip against the corner of the open drawer, but his foot caught on larger speakers left on the floor, along with littered mechanical inner workings of gadgets that had been previously picked apart. As he fell, there was no thought left in him other than Floyd's.
This is going to hurt.
It barely registered, as he nearly knocked himself out, not all aware as he held up a hand to no one. "I'm okay. It's alright, I'm okay."
A groan fell from his lips as that hand fell back to his side. The world growing slowly black, a haze that grew as his eyelids became heavy. It would be nothing like the men in blue that would attack him later. But whatever was going on, he would wake up with a plan. Helpful introspection or knowledge in the whys and hows bank robbery was something Floyd didn't go near. There had been enough years that passed since his first attempt at that. A getaway driver that couldn't even get the car to where it needed to be. Not that it would have done anyone any good.
Such are the days of youth and bad decisions. People and promises for his version of easy money. He was ill prepared before, but with Evan, it felt like there was hope. Minus tripping over his own items. Something had to change here. Somehow, they had to work together. He didn't want to see friends hurt, people changed, but he did want to see how this worked out in his favor.
In the long run, this would be good for everyone. Money made everything better. Who needed more or better? Nothing else was going to work out in his favor. Not with women or or life. Not being here in Boston and all these claims of bigger bad guys. What were bad guys but those with twisted stories themselves? Wouldn't be the first time he worked something for himself. Good guys always claiming to be better than everyone else. Having hearts for everything, except it was really their own interests. How was he any different?