fuck this fuck that fuck everything
Quinn pocketed his phone, deciding that not texting Jordyn in return for her never calling him a snacc again was a fair deal. That, however meant, that he had two options - go back to his dorm and drink alone, because Jordyn was being a treacherous creature and not drinking with him, or go figure out who the heck Jordyn had also found preparing to drink alone. He was leaning towards the latter, because even sober he was good at knowing that things were bad ideas and doing them anyway. And he was a little less than sober at this point, so dumbassery and tomorrow's regrets were on the menu.
There was always to option of not doing the thing.
But somehow he always wound up doing the thing. It was a problem.
He made his way to the dorm number in question, double checking it on his phone once, to make sure that he wasn’t just waking some random person up because he was really bad at the whole “semi-adulting” thing. Knocking on the door, he stepped back, looking up and down the hallway, hands shoved in his jacket pockets.
