Fifth Floor Common Room, Monday Morning
So Jeff's flight wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow (that was the earliest he could get back to London, 1989) and Jeff's room was full of things that weren't Jeff's anymore. He couldn't really sleep well there, because there was supposed to be someone in the bed and there wasn't, and he couldn't sit in there, either, because Turtle might be there, and he didn't know what to say.
So Jeff was camping out in the common room, staring listlessly out in front of him, draped all over a chair. He had a hangover, but it meant little in the face of sheer, shell-shocked depression.
He lifted up the remote and turned the station to Beachview, but even women running around in bathing suits weren't helping.
[ open, of course! ]
So Jeff was camping out in the common room, staring listlessly out in front of him, draped all over a chair. He had a hangover, but it meant little in the face of sheer, shell-shocked depression.
He lifted up the remote and turned the station to Beachview, but even women running around in bathing suits weren't helping.
[ open, of course! ]