Jim thought
he'd been sent to his room to be out of harm's way, but either the bar hiccupped or just got confused, because, somehow, he ended up
in Stan's roomWith a confused frown, Jim asks, "Hey, how'd you get in my room?" Then he moves a few inches and bumps into something he doesn't think should be in his room, but, he's a bit disoriented, so
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"S'my room, man."
He's laying back on his bed. Nothing else to do.
"You need any help there?"
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That explains why there was a chair or something near his hand that wasn't supposed to be in his own room.
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He sighs, and repeats.
"You need any help there? Or can you make it over here on your own? I figured, we just sleep through."
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He rolls his eyes a little.
"I'm good. I can make it. I do know how to walk around in unfamiliar places."
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He folds his arms behind his head, and snuggles down in the covers.
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"Just what I need. A night of being locked in a room with the man who sleeps too much."
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"I do not sleep too much. Make yourself comfortable."
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He grins and sits on the end of the bed.
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"Shoes off, please, if you're gonna stay in my room."
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He leans forward to remove his shoes and toss them aside.
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"Get naked by all means.
It's not like he's not; he just wasn't drawing attention to the fact, seeing as how he's under the covers and all.
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Deadpan. Because there's really not.
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"You know, for a blind man, you find your way around easily."
Of course, it'd probably sound more convincing as snark if Stan's hands weren't busy travelling up his ass and back.
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And said hands grip Stan's shoulders and press into his chest.
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