(no subject)
Bar was kind enough to give him a change of clothes. It's generic and quite 1960's -- bellbottom jeans and a shirt that looks like it was tossed out of an Army surplus window. And so, having had a shower and given his last $3 to Bar, Miniver is sitting on the floor by the fireplace with a mug of sweetened coffee, fiddling with his room key, waiting for the fire to dry that dead Bichon Frise decomposing on his head his hair while he wonders what the Hell he's going to do with himself now and stews over things Random told him.
He'd love some company.
[ooc: Yes, Miniver's journal name is different. Forgive the mun for being perfectionistic, but this picky Muse has taken almost a year to find his face and LJ name and let me play him right.]
He'd love some company.
[ooc: Yes, Miniver's journal name is different. Forgive the mun for being perfectionistic, but this picky Muse has taken almost a year to find his face and LJ name and let me play him right.]