Thursday Morning

[conathon.livejournal.com]

Sawyer's head is pounding, it feels as if he's been hit with a semi-truck straight on; he rolls over in bed restlessly and pulls the sheets over his head. After his girly-freak roommate had disappeared, the room had been kept all to himself and smelled like cigarettes.

Sitting up in bed, he reluctantly gets dressed and makes his way to the common room; plopping down on the couch, he flips on the T.V. Sawyer has the worst hang over possible, it's all Beka's Fault.