Don't know why I didn't call
So. Gevanni's place is nice and all, and Near's starting to feel like maybe he can go out again. He's only been able to make quick runs to the kitchen the past two weeks--Gevanni's done it for him until then--but other than that, he's stayed in. Thought. Slept. Build a tower that would rival any other Near's greatest achievement. Put together thirty-eight model trains. Built another tower, slightly less great.
Folded two thousand, three hundred, fifty-seven cranes.
And he looks like hell.
But this trip is different. This trip is going to mean something. He's going somewhere other than the kitchen--to find his own room. Gevanni was alright, but N preferred solitude after all those months in the company of others.
His bare feet scuff softly against the carpet as he shuffles along the hallway. It's been long enough that he doesn't quite remember the pattern of the mansion shifting about, and so he doesn't quite remember which hallway goes where, and when a tiny urge in the back of his mind tells him to open this door, he doesn't question it.