Room 402; Wednesday Morning.

[by137]

His bags were packed; he was ready to go. A.J. had a hiking backpack, complete with the tent and other camping stuff, and he sighed, pausing at the door to take a look around the room, devoid of all his stuff that had either been shipped to his parent's house back in Jersey or were sitting in the junkyard, maybe for some other aspiring...type to

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[death_of_hope]

"Not you too." Anemone stood in the door and crossed her arms. Even after a year at Fandom, she hadn't really learned how to knock. "Maybe I should just tie you to the bed or something. Then you can't leave."

[by137]

A.J. bit his lip a little, ducking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, Anemone," he said, glad to see her but a little embarrassed over the fact that he hadn't gotten a chance to see her until she found him. "I don't know if that'd work. Eventually, someone would find me and let me go..."

[death_of_hope]

She tilted her head and grinned. "I'll say that the room has been quarantined. There was an outbreak of, um, uncontrollable paint, and it's gained sentience. In deference to its budding society, the room must be left undisturbed. No one would disbelieve it."

[by137]

Damn that evil, pink-haired genius.

"I could start screaming for help," A.J. pointed out.