Tibby was sick of his room, having spent the last several days confined to it. He had promptly demanded that Rae and Veri leave the living room that morning, setting up camp in front of the television. He thought they had gone out again. He didn't know. Perhaps they would go to the store. He doubted it.
He was sitting with a pillow behind his back, a blanket tossed around his legs, and only wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants. His bruises were healing well now, thanks to Pansy's potions, and he was only a few shades of purple, primarily just yellow. He looked back, letting his hair flop down, at Fletcher, and grinned.