the door has now vanished. behind peter and donnie, the skyline in the window changes every time they turn back to look. the former can almost hear egon now, must be some sort of psycho-reactive space. peter doesn't care. ‘oh what the hell! there are worse places to be stuck,’ he disappears into the room and flops onto one of the twin beds, ‘i knew this job would have its perks eventually. about damn time too.’ peter reaches over for the room service menu and flicks through it casually, ‘club sandwich... cheeseburger deluxe... new york cheesecake— eh, never understood the hype.’ when he settles on an item, he tries to take the telephone receiver in his hand, but the entire machine is snatched away from him — hurled upwards by some invisible entity and into the ceiling. it smashes to pieces. peter blinks at the mess on the floor, then looks at donnie, ‘guess room service is closed.’
INBOX: LOOKS LIKE WE'RE STUCK IN HERE FOR A WHILE, @unusualmuses (for donatello).
