liarlaid.
“it…it’s not that bad!! I mean, it’s pretty messy but…and I do have ants but–”
that’s normal, isn’t it? sure, the motel sprays for those things, but a couple dozen are bound to get through despite it, aren’t they?
the more he thinks about it, the less confident jameson seems in his rather hasty decision to claim normalcy.
“I don’t have face masks or gloves. …but I do have…”
looks around as if a spare hazmat suit or sterilization kit would just be sitting around. nope, still the normal junk food wrappers, games, books, magazines and clothes that called the floors, tables and chairs of his motel room home.
okay, maybe it was a little messy.
“I can go to the convenience store down the street, they probably have those…!”
he doesn’t have face masks...? not even gloves? you can’t help but shudder internally. the more jameson protests, the redder his face seems to get, and now you’re starting to feel a little bad.
but... you can’t just do this without gloves. it’s way too dirty for that. hesitantly, you reach over to pick up a rumpled sweater. as soon as it lifts itself from the ground, a swarm of ants start running. there was spilled ice cream soaked into the carpet and a fragment of a cheeto had stuck to it.
“...” you drop the sweater on the ground, face pale. “yeah, let’s go to the convenience store and pick up some cleaning supplies.”
