[He makes a noise rather than answer, but he'll move to sit - going toward her bed, shoes kicked off before he just crawls up into it like he's done a million times. Seeking somewhere warm and safe to sleep (there's a reason for that too, that he can't remember-) off some sort of hangover, a place to bitch about his issues or just to feel the weight of her bones next to him. He goes half under the covers, sulking, pulling blankets up to his breastbone and staring up at the ceiling.]
I'm not even mad at the trip being cancelled. I mean, I am, but... it was the way it was.
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I'm not even mad at the trip being cancelled. I mean, I am, but... it was the way it was.