Room 316, Saturday evening
On Monday, Hamlet had tuned 18-years-old and technically become an adult.
On Saturday, Hamlet had woken up as a cheerful blonde 6-year-old. He'd spent most of the day going through the closet trying to find something that wasn't black to put on. (Why was there so much black stuff anyway? It was such a depressing colour.) After finally settling on something to wear, he started going through the bookshelf. A skull? A hot pink bunny rabbit? The Big Book of Darque Poetry? What kind of weirdo lived here?
[OOC: Open like whoa.]
On Saturday, Hamlet had woken up as a cheerful blonde 6-year-old. He'd spent most of the day going through the closet trying to find something that wasn't black to put on. (Why was there so much black stuff anyway? It was such a depressing colour.) After finally settling on something to wear, he started going through the bookshelf. A skull? A hot pink bunny rabbit? The Big Book of Darque Poetry? What kind of weirdo lived here?
[OOC: Open like whoa.]