tyler_gone: (a little emo)
Tyler hadn't been able to sleep the night before. It turned out Vegas was the kind of town where you could find a twelve-step meeting at 5 a.m. on a weekday, after all but the most desperate of the paparazzi had given up on Tony and his entourage doing anything interesting and crept home. And the most desperate ones weren't good enough at their jobs to notice Tyler when he crept out a side door, sweatshirt hood over his head and slumped posture combining to make him seem younger than he was.

He didn't do much at the Gambler's Anonymous meeting; he just sat, and listened, and gave a few hugs. One old woman cried on his shoulder. It was a support group, and those were always comforting to him, even for the wrong reasons.

Between that and a long workout, he was feeling fairly like himself as he sat down to a room service breakfast. It was just a version of himself that dressed in Armani.

[OOC: NFB but open to the guys with him.]

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Tyler Durden

April 2015

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