[Albert drapes the towel over his shoulders once he's somewhat warmer in the living room, and he drapes a towel over a section of the couch before turning to empty his pants pockets. There is a small pen he had been using for writing, a bottle of lotion that was almost empty, and a thick book wrapped carefully in a plastic bag. He sets them all on the coffee table for now.
Right now, most of his actions are on auto-pilot. He picks up the shirt and slips it on, his wings easily sliding through the slits in back. Then he sits wearily on the couch, not yet reaching for the blanket; he'll rub the towel at his tangled hair in a rather futile effort.]
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Right now, most of his actions are on auto-pilot. He picks up the shirt and slips it on, his wings easily sliding through the slits in back. Then he sits wearily on the couch, not yet reaching for the blanket; he'll rub the towel at his tangled hair in a rather futile effort.]