42 inches. Well, that successfully derailed most of Chris' brain into YESSSSSS territory, and so he didn't even yell when Riley took the initiative and introduced him to Sheila, even going so far as to give out his room number. He considered bitching later, but even as he filed it in the back of his mind it was already dissolving in the face of having so much unpacking to look forward to, along with all the fun he'd have commandeering other people's TVs for his movies.
And then she offered to help! What the fuck was up with this place? Was everyone on weed? Not that he would complain, fuck no, because the less trips for him the less pain and suffering and general effort he had to exert.
"You don't want half my movies. These ones are the shitty ones." He unceremoniously dumped the box he was holding into Sheila's waiting arms and turned back to grab another from his car. Hell, if they kept this up, he could be done unpacking in another two trips.