Room 121, late Sunday/Eaaaaaaarly Monday

"I don't feel very broken-upinated," Xander says, frowning. It's not a sad frown, just a perplexed one. They haven't quite made it into the room yet due to 'stuck making out in the doorframe' issues, so he's perhaps not out in left field with the perplexity there.

__
[For Bridge, probably vaguely on the unicorporated outskirts of NWS where you still pay local taxes but don't get bus service.]

Room 121, Monday evening

Xander was...sort of packing. In that way where he was straightening stuff up and putting it in boxes while pretending that maybe it was just because he needed more room and was going to shove all the boxes under the bed. Except not, but there was always the chance. Except not.

[For willbedone and the b-word-person. NFB due to omg sekrits.]