no subject

[ Way to rub it in, even if he probably didn't mean to. He'd have to know to do so deliberately... but the reminder stung regardless, even on the heels of the good news that there wasn't a girlfriend for him to secretly resent. Birkin sat down on the foot of his bed, which had remained unmade, then flopped onto his back. Room service hadn't been allowed in, of course—locked though their briefcases were, it was just too risky to let strangers into a room where these kinds of notes were being stored, not all of it for public use—and William sure as shit wasn't going to waste his time making his bed. ]

I've noticed. ...I think we all have. Not that you don't deserve it.