Room 302, Sunday Afternoon

[not_a_moonie]

Alana had deliberately stayed out too late the night before, quietly but relentlessly ordering drink after drink. She normally didn't like to get drunk -- there was too much puke and too little control involved -- but getting a mass murderering psychopath out of your head was the kind of thing that pushed normal right to the wayside. She needed her brain to stop screaming in horror, and vodka was the fastest way to do that.

She wasn't hung over when she woke up, though the numbness in her brain seemed to be sticking around. She took a long, hot shower, put on an oversized t-shirt and leggings, pulled her hair back into a bun, and then curled up on her bed. She had a magazine open in front of her, but the text kept swimming before her eyes.

It was a relief to have a message to return.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]

Comments

[ultimatehottie.livejournal.com]

"If you're not here when I get back, I'm going to take that personally," Johnny said as he hopped off the bed and headed out the door.

A couple minutes later, he had a thing of ice cream and a couple spoons. "I don't know who exactly stocks the freezers in the common room, but they deserve our thanks."

[not_a_moonie]

"I sometimes wonder about that," Alana -- who hadn't gone anywhere -- said as she accepted a spoon. "Probably it's the same people who clean the bathrooms and everything. They only come out when no one is looking."

[ultimatehottie.livejournal.com]

"Well, whoever it is, I'm leaving a present in the fridge for them this Christmas," Johnny said. "Of course, I can't guarantee that somebody else won't eat it, but it's the thought that counts."

[not_a_moonie]

"Maybe put a note on it?" Alana suggested. "... not that everybody would pay attention to that, either."

She took a large spoonful of the ice cream, digging a bit to get extra cookie dough on her spoon. It seemed to help.