OOM: Room 130
Veronica stands in the centre of her apartment, examining her surroundings critically.
The whole thing could never have been helped, she supposes. On one hand the entire place has been decorated with all of the style and flair of a very confident eighteen-year-old college freshman; on the other hand the place has been decorated with all of the style and flair of a very confident eighteen-year-old college freshman. There are posters on the walls for God's sake. Veronica is wincing.
It doesn't help that the whole room looks very, well, seven years ago. The carpet and the drapes and the couch with those little wooden legs... Something must be done. And Special Agent Veronica Mars, FBI, is just the one to do it.
Well, maybe she can supervise.
Those couches aren't light.
The whole thing could never have been helped, she supposes. On one hand the entire place has been decorated with all of the style and flair of a very confident eighteen-year-old college freshman; on the other hand the place has been decorated with all of the style and flair of a very confident eighteen-year-old college freshman. There are posters on the walls for God's sake. Veronica is wincing.
It doesn't help that the whole room looks very, well, seven years ago. The carpet and the drapes and the couch with those little wooden legs... Something must be done. And Special Agent Veronica Mars, FBI, is just the one to do it.
Well, maybe she can supervise.
Those couches aren't light.