Room 321, Thursday Afternoon
Sean wasn't about to go out in that fog, no siree. Especially not with the accompanying hallucinations. At least he hoped they were hallucinations. If he was actually seeing those creepy monkey-pony (mony? ponkey?) things, then he was going to hate Fandom even more for a while.
This would be why he was holed up in his hotel room, books scattered all over the floor. He had a distressing number of them, many from both the Nast and Cortez Cabals' private archives, but a good few that he'd purchased over his time in Fandom. Maybe he'd find something.
Hell, at least it took his mind off the ponkeys.
At the moment, he was sitting on the floor in the middle of a sad little nest of books.
[For one in particular, but open if anybody feels the need to stop by and visit or call him.]
This would be why he was holed up in his hotel room, books scattered all over the floor. He had a distressing number of them, many from both the Nast and Cortez Cabals' private archives, but a good few that he'd purchased over his time in Fandom. Maybe he'd find something.
Hell, at least it took his mind off the ponkeys.
At the moment, he was sitting on the floor in the middle of a sad little nest of books.
[For one in particular, but open if anybody feels the need to stop by and visit or call him.]