Room 513 of International Relations; Saturday Morning.
It was true that, the previous night, the Extra Bed Clause was duly ignored and homecoming ended with one of the beds in Room 513 of International Relations empty. Somehow, though, by the morning, this was not the case. Where Turtle had fallen asleep, there was just an empty space, and a very Turtle-like shape seemed to have been transported underneath the otherwise undisturbed covers of the other, much-less-used bed. Very still, very cold. Almost like wax.
Jeff blinked sluggishly awake. Yes, sluggishly was the exact word he'd use for it if he'd been aware enough to even use it. "...Turtle?" he asked, patting the bed to see if he could find the warmth that had unexpectedly abandoned his side. "...Are you in the closet?" he asked.
That got him no reply.
So he turned his head and saw someone lying on a bed. "Oh, okay." Jeff was often baffled by the places things wound up ending up, and he supposed girlfriends were no different. He slipped out from under the covers and let his toes touch the floor. "Turtle?"
Still, silence seemed to cover the room, except for the soft panting of Jeff's dog. Nana, however, seemed to have at least a better idea of what was going on, letting out a bark before getting up and moving to the other bed, nudging it slightly, as if urging Jeff to have a closer look.
Seemed to, mind you. She actually only had her own concerns in mind. It would be hard sleeping in that bed when there was already something...or someone....in it.
"I know you were drinking last night," Jeff said, tactfully, as his feet shuffled quietly across the floor. As quietly as he could manage, at any rate, which was a little on the noisy side. "Sometimes alcohol sort of revolves in your system. That's how morning accidents generally happen." Was she even listening to him?
He nudged Nana out of the way, or at least tried to. The process seemed largely ineffectual. "Turtle?" he tried again, and reached across Nana's head to give his girlfriend a good nudge.
A nudge lead into, somehow, a very convenient shift of the body in the bed, rolling over to not only pull the covers back, but to also reveal the dead, blank stare in the unmoving, glassy green eyes.
"... Oh."
For a moment, Jeff utterly deflated. Completely. No bones left.
He opened his mouth to say something, because that was always his first instinctive reaction. There had to be words in there somewhere. There always were.
He choked on something. It might have been the words he had been looking for. Or a word, at least, some word to cover this. This. Thing. He felt the tears prick behind his eyes.
"...Socks."
Nana broke up the choking with a loud, resounding, almost encouraging sort of bark. The sort of bark that dogs give any time that a person should listen to them and know to go get someone, because the old barn was burning down, or Timmy fell down the well, or you just found your girlfriend's dead body in the extra bed.
Which the Clause was actually surprisingly lacking for.
Jeff wasn't very good at identifying any barks. That's why this one led him to reach over and poke again, now that all the word things were out of the way. And again. And again for good measure. "...I told you to put on some socks," he said again, pointlessly, and went from simply poking her to a sort of drill-like violent rhythm. "Turtle?!"
Realizing that Jeff was just standing there, Nana let out an even louder, more insistent round of barking, her head leaning forward to actually start physically pushing Jeff away from the bed.
Not that her efforts were need, though, because soon after she started, there was a knock on the door; she stopped, to bark now at the timely intruder.
"...Maybe someone's bringing socks."
He had no idea where all of this was coming from. It took him about a minute to really let the information ferment, too, touching upon every bit of his brains before it found somewhere to sink in.
Mechanically, Jeff lifted himself up, putting one foot after the other, and, finally, reached.
Well, she certainly was bringing socks. At the door stood a young woman, of a relatively short build, average features, and a pair of glasses, but the way she carried herself gave her a very important sort of stature. "Jeffrey Murdock?" she asked, brusquely, eying his carefully through her glass and holding a clipboard tightly to her chest.
Jeff blinked at her owlishly.
He swallowed, then nodded slowly.
"Socks," he said, importantly.
The young woman was going to take that as a yes. "Thank goodness I've caught you," she said, with a breath of relief, "before things got too far out of hand." Quickly, she invited herself in, closing the door behind her, and handing to Jeffrey a folder from her clipboard. "Take this. Follow it to the address mentioned on the front, and do not worry. We have confirmed the time of death for one T.R. "Turtle" Wexler, and have been brought in to take care of her body and estate. My name is Alice W. Tortoiseshell; Ms. Wexler's will has been entrusted to me."
"Did she say anything about the socks?" Jeff demanded to know, even as the folder's oddly heavy weight suddenly struck his palms like a razor or something. "...the death. I mean. Not socks. There were no--" Jeff had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He had no idea what was going on with the world.
Turtle had just left and. "Will," he mumbled. "Will?"
A distressed, sympathetic look flashed on young Ms. Tortoiseshell's face behind her glasses and she frowned. "Yes, the will. Everything will be explained shortly, Mister Murdock, I assure you. Just please. It would be better for all parties involved if you just follow my instructions and relocate yourself to the address indicated."
There was a slight pause.
"And don't mention this to anyone else until you get there."
"Okay," Jeff said.
That was just about it. Okay.
He looked very, very tiny standing there, the folder in his hands, his body not entirely sure what kind of pose wanted to take it on.
He wanted to say 'socks' again. "Okay," he said again, instead.
"Okay," Ms. Tortoiseshell agreed, nodding to Jeffrey and then, finally, realizing that she'd have to, she put an arm around him and slowly started to gently encourage him toward the door.
And, either Ms. Tortoiseshell had either a very mighty arm for her small frame, or there was a slight, almost comforting squeeze for Jeffrey's shoulders thrown into the whole thing.
[[ preplayed with the ever marvelous and masochistic scary_jeff. Stay tuned for more! NFI, but OOC is always welcome! ]]