If you’re not overly busy and passing though the Conrad Hotel’s basement lobby, you will notice there is a lump of blankets on one of the couch and a mass of black hair spilling over an armrest. Even though it’s late morning, drawing close to noon, Trian is still sleeping
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She taps him on the shoulder.
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"I'm tired," he mumbles by way of explanation, shifting under his blankets into a more comfortable position. A series of pops can be heard from his spine. Trian's eye closes. "Can't sleep in my room."
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