Room 507, Thursday Evening

Jason had come back to the dorms after class and taken a shower, and yet he still felt like he had powdered sugar in his hair. Stupid island. He wouldn't have minded real snow, even if that would have made it even colder outside.

The decision to not go back outside for anything was easy, so Jason was curled up on his bed, picking at his hair and flipping through a book of Russian phrases. If Bruce quizzed him the next time he went home, he was going to be so screwed.

[Door and post are open!]