Room 407, Thursday morning
Jude rolled over and out of bed, yawning and automatically patting her bedhead into some semblance of order to make the morning shuffle down to the bathroom. She reached down to adjust her boxers and herself and patted around for a minute.
". . . huh."
Some sleepy patting of the chest.
". . . dude."
[[All blame for the PB goes to notthehulk. She's an evil, evil enabler. And it is totally, totally Thursday where I am. Most establishy, but open if you want!]]
". . . huh."
Some sleepy patting of the chest.
". . . dude."
[[All blame for the PB goes to notthehulk. She's an evil, evil enabler. And it is totally, totally Thursday where I am. Most establishy, but open if you want!]]