Back from what had been an unexpectedly long and uncomfortable week and a half at home, Roscoe trudged his way up the stairs and into his room before flopping face-down on the bed
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Khadgar might not have been from this world, but he knew that the people who were from here were pretty much all feeling terrible. So, he'd decided to check on those he knew might be affected by things, especially when he saw the suitcase in Roscoe's doorway. "Hello?" he said, knocking gently on the door. "Are you coming or going?"
"Coming," Roscoe mumbled into his pillow. Laying spread-eagled and flat on the bed was appropriately dramatic but it made his voice a little muffled, so he twisted around to see who he was talking to. "I just got back. Remind me why going home is, like, a thing people do?"
"Big family thing," Roscoe said, scooting sideways so he was laying on his side, facing Khadgar. It wasn't as satisfying or dramatic as laying face-down, but it was comfortable, at least. "My dad came home after a long trip away so we all had to get together and talk about it. And it sucked. Have you gone home since you've been here?"
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