Room 408, Saturday Morning

[apocalipped]

The dance? Had been nice. Nice in that sort of, 'I am here, I am not being particularly social, but I have a lovely date and I'm going to enjoy this, damn it,' kind of way that Jono was so good at. But that much social interaction was tiring, to say the least, and so he was absolutely planning on spending his Saturday in bed. And it would be great, and to hell with anything in the world that thought that he was going to be getting up, at least until late afternoon.

It was possible that Jonothon was slightly delusional, yes.

[For wee ones, roomies, whatever!]

Comments

[lepetitemortals.livejournal.com]

"Sometimes I think you're extra-British on purpose," Vedder said. "Just so people will be sodding impressed. Why can't I have grown up in England? The accents are better."

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

"Because I'm assigned to the Seattle division of External Influences," George said, "and England has crappy food."

Sorry, Jono. She couldn't insult the weather. She lived in Seattle. It seemed the first thing she could grab.

She was going to try focusing very carefully again, and enunciating. The thinking equivalent of enunciating.

//Regina. Is. My. Sister's. Name.//

Which he might remember, but it deserved a mention, anyway.

[furnaceface]

Jono did remember, vaguely, but he appreciated that George was willing to clarify, that way.

Especially with her volume turned down, like that. That part was much more appreciated.

He nodded a little, and then shrugged.

//I can't deny that,// he said, finally. //Not that it has any effect on me, really.//

Whether he was talking about the food, or the being extra-British on purpose, the world would never know.