Room 222, Saturday Morning

[wwiii]

While Warren's day typically started with a grunt and a stretch and overall reluctance to leave the comfort and warmth of his bed, today seemed to have a few extra rituals tacked on, for good measure.

The first was to sit bolt-upright, twist around, and make a grab at his alarm clock. Shit, he was late for his shift at The Paper Lantern.

The second was to sort of freeze, narrowing his eyes at the clock as he realized that this one wasn't his. This was followed by a moment to actually gather his wits, look around the room, and realize that it wasn't the only thing that wasn't his, actually.

And, upon finally making his way out of bed, opening to the door, and peering at the number on it, he found himself mildly confused but mostly unsurprised that the dorm number he'd wound up in was a floor and some doors down from the room he used to call his. At least 222 was easy to remember.

"Fandom," he grunted, shaking his head and making his way back into the room, careful to not let the little white kitten at his feet slip out into the hallway. "Go figure."

[Open for roomies or visitors of all shapes and sizes! Mmmm, AU. I missed Warren 1.0, and so, lo, here he is for the weekend.]

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[shyest-eyes.livejournal.com]

There was a small blue jar on Hinata's desk. Inside the jar was a tiny pink haired girl in white who was hoisting herself up out of it and then tumbling to land flat on her butt on the desk.

She looked startled for a moment.

Then giggled.