Skwisgaar finally had Lulu soundly and safely tucked into bed and resting contentedly by then, having been doting on her entirely since they'd been back from their honeymoon. There were bets behind his back on how long that would last, just as there had been about the relationship in general. Not that he knew that. He was blissfully unaware of the betting pool, and content with his life as it was, and it showed. He was far more agreeable, less prone to snapping at anything (unless it affected Lulu and/or the baby in some way) and so much more relaxed. He wandered into the huge common room, drawn there by habit and by the sound of someone flipping channels.
He poured himself into his usual seat, and picked up his guitar, practicing idly. "Anythings good beings on dat thing?" He asked the drunken, doped up hippie.