Room 501, Monday, Noon
Having just sent a handwavey e-mail to Tseng that began with the words, "I swear I'm not freakin' drunk, but bear with me," Reno felt it was safe to finally poke through the e-mails that he'd been ignoring all weekend while typing up that stupid report.
He ran through the typical gamut of "junk, junk, spam, junk with spam filling, junk, Host Club invite, junk" before backtracking, clicking on the invite, and looking it over with his mouth agape before turning around and raising an eyebrow at his roomie.
"Tamaki?"
[[Intended for the roomie, who is modded into the room with his mun's permission, but open to anyone, provided you don't mind wonky availability because of Tamaki company.]]
He ran through the typical gamut of "junk, junk, spam, junk with spam filling, junk, Host Club invite, junk" before backtracking, clicking on the invite, and looking it over with his mouth agape before turning around and raising an eyebrow at his roomie.
"Tamaki?"
[[Intended for the roomie, who is modded into the room with his mun's permission, but open to anyone, provided you don't mind wonky availability because of Tamaki company.]]