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Justin Finch-Fletchley (basilisk_srvivr) wrote in pandorarpg,

Justin hadn't slept well the night before. Not that he'd had nightmares or any such thing, but his worry over Ernie had made it difficult to find peace of mind.

Now, however, it was a day later, and he'd finally found some sort of acceptance that there was little that could be done now, and quite likely nobody else would die. Nobody knew what was happening, and it was all so strange... And anyway, Ernie was Ernie, and could kick the arse of whoever tried to beat him down.

Not that anybody would, because nobody else had died yet, and nobody would.

He knocked on the door then stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. It was beginning to get a little chilly outside, and his hands always got cold first.