Re: Room 12: Janus A/Steve M
[Janis' delicate nostrils flared a little at the smell of cheap country beer, and she twitched a little on her chair as she tried to identify what that scent could mean; the clouds cleared quickly as she remembered something somebody had said about him working at the bar. She'd tilted her head toward the door at the knock, and the opaque glasses presented Steve with a double mirror of his torso as she turned to see him come in. She gave him a sunny smile full of boardwalks and starlet dreams, as if she saw his greeting and repeated it back. She could orient him in the room, intensely familiar to herself. The end of the bed was handy, or he could clear a pink silk robe and a set of smooth cotton slacks off one of the chairs. The papery rasp of the pizza box pleased her, and she fished out another chicken wing, trading bones for flesh.]
Someone sent me a Christmas present of records. I'm blind now but I checked them before I changed, this one is labeled Pink Floyd, no joke. [She purred a laugh.] How's bartending? I bet you bring in the tips.