slumped over on a sofa in the perkins’ study lounge, a bag of frozen pizza rolls held to his cheek, griffin gives a smile to a passerby. “if you think this looks bad, you should see the other guy.” he pauses only a beat. “the other guy being the tension rod in my closet. little bitch. i’m still in the process of unpacking everything, and i realized i wanted it a little higher, y’know, to better accomodate my tall stature -- i’m 6′0, in case you were curious, and yes, i am single and looking and free this saturday night. anyway. the rod was stuck, and i tried fighting with it, it popped out, whacked me, and here we are.” as shrug rolls off his shoulders, he adjusts the makeshift icepack. “i’m here ‘cause i needed to take some space from my room. cannot be in that environment right now. plus, my microwave’s fucking busted from moving, so i was hoping to trap somebody into letting me use theirs to heat these suckers up.” with that, he springs to his feet, tossing and catching the package as he approaches milla. despite what one might think, given his theatrics, there was no bruising on his face. it was maybe a little red from contact witht he cold, if anything. “what do you say?” @kangm