![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
solipsistically[ Unaware of the fact that he's recording, Five is standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, staring back at himself in ever-growing awe as he stares back at himself. He looks fucking ridiculous in his correctly-aged body while wearing a pair of black jeans and a blue button-down shirt when he ought to be wearing a proper suit, but...holy shit, it's the right body.
The clothes still fit, although the shirt's much tighter — embarrassingly so, actually; he hadn't realized just how much bigger his gut had been in the adult body, but the strain on his buttons is proof — and the jeans are a little snugger than he'd have liked, he's only an inch or so taller than he normally would be, so he's not exactly busting out of it.
Number Five leans closer to the mirror, like he's not quite sure he believes what he sees, and a rare grin crosses his expression. ]
Holy shit...
[ A huff of incredulous laughter escapes him and he stands up straight again.
The smile falls almost immediately away again when Five follows his direct instinctive response, which is to try to use his spatial jumping to hit up the nearest bar like the goddamned adult he actually is and finally looks like. ...only, nothing happens. ]
What the fuck? Come on...
[ He tries again, hands closing into fists and his body jolting just ever so slightly forward the way he always does when he's moving into a jump. His hands don't show any signs of even trying to comply. ]
No...no, no, no...come on...
[ Another failed try. ]
Shit!
[ The feed cuts out. ]
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}