It had taken a bit, but the house was finally set up. Moving cities was more than a little bit of a pain, he mused, as he got ready for bed. Furniture had been moved or bought, the large and sprawling house had been paid for outright from various investments.

The only problem was, it was all a mask. It was, like the clothing, the watches, the cars, for show – a glamour, a distraction.

He eyed the bed, deciding to give it another go tonight. What was the worst that could happen?

… hours later he was still tossing and turning before he gave up, rolling out of the featherbed to pad into the living room, the blanket trailing behind him in one hand and the pillow in the other. It was too quiet, and the silence made his brain set itself on fire. It was too soft, and he couldn’t get comfortable. With a murmured flick of power, he turned the television on to whatever news channel it had been playing earlier and set the blanket and pillow down on the floor, settling down onto it and wrapping the comforter around him.

Within minutes, he was in fitful sleep, the noise of the newscaster drowning out the worst that his mind had to offer.