It was afternoon. Or maybe it was morning. Or night, even. Wesley hadn't moved since coming to his room in the first place yesterday after finishing watching the Games, at which point he'd slumped onto the floor with a bottle of scotch and proceeded to down what felt like most of it. His head lolled back against the bed behind him.

Everything hurt ( Read more... )

Wesley was... well, he had his nose buried in a legal pad as he jotted things down with unhealthy attentiveness regarding Katniss' participation in the Games. The lingering sense of something weird being in the room was there, as usual, because his roommate was around somewhere, though due to the timing, he'd come to regard that as associated with ( Read more... )