Room 310, Late Sunday Morning
Once Toby regained consciousness, he trudged back to the dorms, stripped out of his wet things and made a few calls to Kevin's voicemail directly. Unfortunately, he didn't realize none of the messages reached Kevin, and some were copied over many times. Another oops in Toby's day.
He dressed in the warmest sweater he could find and sat cross-legged on his bed, wrapped in all his blankets, willing his phone to ring.
And yelling at it. Because talking to inanimate objects helped stuff happen. "Come on stupid phone. Make the jerk call me!"
A little later, Toby tried to call Lee for consolation over the Worf slap in the face. It didn't work so well.
It really didn't seem fair that Worf wouldn't let it go, but Toby was willing to try to talk to him. He was starting to worry something was up with Lee, though.
[Door cracked, post open, if slowish from cold meds and early morningness! I'm an editing fool.]
He dressed in the warmest sweater he could find and sat cross-legged on his bed, wrapped in all his blankets, willing his phone to ring.
And yelling at it. Because talking to inanimate objects helped stuff happen. "Come on stupid phone. Make the jerk call me!"
A little later, Toby tried to call Lee for consolation over the Worf slap in the face. It didn't work so well.
It really didn't seem fair that Worf wouldn't let it go, but Toby was willing to try to talk to him. He was starting to worry something was up with Lee, though.
[Door cracked, post open, if slowish from cold meds and early morningness! I'm an editing fool.]