Room 413 | Late Afternoon | Thursday | September 8

[tripledmyself]

Nathan's plan had been simple. Ever since losing his fucking cigarettes (and his joints, apparently) this morning, he'd planned on going to the mainland after class to score some more. And that had worked! He'd stocked up on cigarettes and was planning on having a party in his bedroom to celebrate but as soon as he got back on the fucking island

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[dabblinginbitch]

Ramona had a bag that was clanking lightly as she tapped on the edge of his doorframe. "Are your smokes still gone?" she asked, and yeah, Ramona was sort of down to the nub on her fingernails, from chewing them. She'd seen better days.

[tripledmyself]

"What do you think?" he asked, not meaning to snap but feeling sort of like he was at his fucking wit's end. "I would be throwing a fucking party if they weren't gone. Bloody...Prohibition! That's what this is, isn't? Prohibition!"

[dabblinginbitch]

"Not yet, it's not," Ramona said, kicking the door behind her as she entered and poured out the contents of her bag onto his bed. Out spilled several bottles -- vodka, rum, tequila, and a couple of beers. "It's not a lot, but my stash under my bed was still there this morning. Mind you, the cigarettes I keep in my winter boots? Totally gone. But these were still around."

[tripledmyself]

"I think I drank all mine yesterday," he said, scrubbing his fingers through his hair and frowning. "I bought like five packs on the mainland and they disappeared as soon I got onto the island. What the fuck's that about? This isn't funny! Some shitty intervention?"