513 Room of British, Monday Evening
The door let go of a creaking noise before giving way to Jeff, hopping on one leg. He had a fish in the sneaker on his unused foot, his hair and clothes were soaked and nonexistent in some places, he was covered in sand and he smelled, mysteriously, of horse manure (that would be the other foot).
He was Not Going To Talk About It.
The next moment, he was flat on his back with a dog tongue in his face and paws digging into his chest. "NANA! NO!" he yelled. What ensued was a mostly problematic and very one-sided wrestling match, which only ended when the dog finally lost interest and crawled into her corner to gnaw on her own leg again.
Jeff scrambled to his feet, stumbled towards his bed, and crashed down on the mattress.
The phone promptly started ringing again.
He pulled his pillow over his head.
[ mostly establishy, but there's space for the fake roomie if he wants to play 20 questions ]
He was Not Going To Talk About It.
The next moment, he was flat on his back with a dog tongue in his face and paws digging into his chest. "NANA! NO!" he yelled. What ensued was a mostly problematic and very one-sided wrestling match, which only ended when the dog finally lost interest and crawled into her corner to gnaw on her own leg again.
Jeff scrambled to his feet, stumbled towards his bed, and crashed down on the mattress.
The phone promptly started ringing again.
He pulled his pillow over his head.
[ mostly establishy, but there's space for the fake roomie if he wants to play 20 questions ]