Nuts and the band of the gook

Night crept under the desk. Carrying the newly bound spear in one hand and keeping my greatsword strapped across my back, I pushed through the carpet weave toward the corner. Behind the iron wastebasket, I found a dead space shielded on three sides. Solid metal wall on the right, wooden baseboard at my back. I jammed the spear tip deep into the wool pile beside me, anchoring it upright within arm's reach. Sitting down against the cold painted wood, I unclasped the greatsword and let its massive flat rest across my shins. It is pitch black down here, but the perimeter holds. Solitude suits me.