Room #414, Thursday Afternoon.

[joxertehmighty]

Joxer was in a worried panic. He'd killed Pete.

He killed Pete. This was bad. Very, very bad. Joxer was pacing back and forth, chewing on his nails. He had no idea what to do. He had no idea who to turn to.

Eep.

[ooc: For one in particular, but open for visitors -before- the expected visitor.]

Comments

[just_add_starch]

After hearing the noise from the gun range, arriving too late to actually see what had happened but in time to see one person who'd been leaving the scene of the incident, Fraser made his way upstairs and knocked on Joxer's door.

[joxertehmighty]

Joxer paused for a second, a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. He quietly walked over to the door and opened it, and he vocally 'eeped'.

"Hi, uhhh, sir, how are you today?"

[just_add_starch]

"Well, thank you," Fraser answered. "And how might you be doing?"

[joxertehmighty]

"Oh, perfectly fine," Joxer said. "Nothing wrong at all, here. Definitely didn't kill Pete, if that's what you're asking, nope."

Ah, subtle.