The Apartment Above The Boards, Sunday Evening

[apocalipped]

Curry. Tonight, Jono had decided, as he set up his room with company in mind and flipped through the phone book for local restaurants, was a good night for curry.

Once upon a time, so help him, he used to like curry. And then there had been years without a mouth, and now this, and he was effectively staring down at his dish and nudging a piece of broccoli that was a little too spicy for comfort around with a fork.

"I'm going to get through this," he intoned, glancing up from his plate. "I swear it."

If it killed him, damn it. If it killed him.

[For that girl!]