To say Alec is going stir-crazy in the small town with no chaos so far (other than the weirdness of existence several years before his birth, and the fact that they somehow made him human without even taking off his runes) is an understatement. He's never been so bored in his life. He's deeply regretting every single time he felt overwhelmed running the Institute and secretly wished for a simpler life, where he didn't have to worry about politics and monsters and whatever absolute mountain of paperwork that week's apocalypse was going to drop onto his desk.
Right now, all he's got to fret about is the slightly burnt coffee that the Saturn Cafe tends to pump out. It's free so he shouldn't really complain, but he can't help the prissy look of disgust that steals across his face every time he takes a sip. Not that it stops him from downing a whole cup, and then accepting the fresh pot from the bored waitress at his table when it becomes clear that he's just going to keep sitting there and downing mug after mug of the stuff.
If anyone else comes in for the free food on offer and looks interested in conversation, Alec will beat down his natural urge to avoid socialization with the masses in order to offer up the coffee pot, because all the cafe's employees seem to have wandered off into the back for the moment. "It's terrible," he says, deadpan: clearly, a glowing endorsement.
AROUND TOWN
Lacking any better outlets (and the training facilities he's accustomed to), Alec goes running a lot during the first few weeks they're all in town to blow off steam stay in shape. He keeps his bow and arrows on him out of years and years of habit, and they make for a fairly easy identifier of being someone who probably wasn't born and raised in White Pines, despite the fact that he's been forced by lack of choice or resources to break down and wear typical 1980s workout clothes (HELP). Though he didn't go for an iconic crop top because he's a Coward, he can still be found basically anywhere in town in the eye-searing neon palette of the decade, looking intensely washed out by his loose tank top and athletic short shorts, with a smattering of strange black symbols tattooed on his arms, shoulders and neck.
He occasionally stops to cool down and stretch, or maybe drink from a water fountain, wherever those happen to be.
WILDCARD
[Want to tag but neither of those work for you? Hit me up in PM, on discord at Cris#4369, or on the ooc intro meme with ideas and I'll write a different starter for you! Of write one of your own, I'm down for anything.]
Alec Lightwood | Shadowhunters