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Arms Hotel Lobby, Tuesday

When Jeff got in to work today, he was humming the Russian national anthem under his breath. Sometimes, he faltered. Sometimes, he let it grow in volume until Gunther threw things from the kitchen.

He never quite stopped.

Jeff was in an excellent mood. His weekend? Doubly so.
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Ask him about his weekend. It was good. He's smiling.

And meet Nana, who's somewhat less pink than she was last week.

But only a lil'.

Dead, dead, dead, still dead... in the head.

It was Tuesday, and so there was the habitual skipping of helping with the project to bring sandwiches to her boyfriend, with the typical accomplished cry of greeting. "Jeff!"

Jeff's head shot up as if an angel had rung a hundred bells at once, or a super model had just earned her wings. "Turtle!"

"Someone seems to be in a good mood," Turtle observed brightly with a smile and, to continue her streak of stating the obvious, she held out the bag in her hand. "Sandwiches."

"Excellent," Jeff grinned, in complete and utter approval, and reached for them. "What kind? I had an excellent weekend!"

He was just going to keep on saying that.

"Barbecue pork today," Turtle told him with a nod ~~because that's what the mun had for lunch omg so good~~, and then her head tilted with an expression of curiosity that was ruined a little by the grin on her face. "And you did? No kidding? I did too..."

"Really?" Jeff asked, opening up the bag to find the goods ~~which totally did sound good omg~~. "Now that's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it?" He was still grinning as he divested the sandwiches of their constraints.

Turtle nodded a little. "Eerie, that is," she decided and departed for a brief moment to go and fetch the chair that she always pulled over from the corner, wondering who it was who kept putting it back in the corner. Her guesses laid somewhere in the area of Gunther. "So, what's up?" she asked, having a seat to reach for her own sandwich.

"I have a sandwich," said Jeff, who was already halfway into said sandwich with all the glee of a man being fed on the job, "And a girlfriend. Life could be less up all around."

He had never considered the chair situation. Turtle pulling it up just seemed like the natural order of things.

"Well," Turtle said, taking a bite of her sandwich herself, although a little one. The haggis soup earlier still plagued her soul a little, but she couldn't outwardly ignore barbecue pork. Even if it was far from kosher. "It could potentially be more up, though, right?"

"I could be a little further away from Gunther," Jeff mused, swallowing another bite. "My mother could lose my phone number. And Jenny Agutter movies could appear every time I turned on the television."

He'd thought about these things. "Also, the extinction of dental floss."

Turtle opened her mouth to say what she had baited the question for, but that last bit halted her and she blinked.

"...What's wrong with dental floss?" she asked, regretting it a bit as soon as the question mark was assumed to punctuate it.

"...Sometimes, you get stuck in it," Jeff said, with a little desperate shrug, "If it was gone, we wouldn't have to bother. Although then, of course, there's the odd opportunity for mutants growing in your teeth..."

Turtle shrugged; it wasn't like she ever flossed, anyway, but they were a decent profit in the dental care niche of the market. "I think brushing," she said, which she also wasn't the best at keeping up with, in all honesty, "takes care of most monsters, Jeff. And, anyway, I shouldn't have asked, because we're getting on a tangent from the point I was going to make."

"You don't know, some monsters can be really brush-resistant," Jeff said, with the voice of a man who knew what he was talking about. Or had seen the movies, anyway. "...There's a point?"

Turtle also knew what she was talking about, although her point was entirely metaphorical. As a habitual sufferer of toothaches, they sometimes felt like monsters, but, really, it was nothing a little bourbon couldn't fix.

Not that any of that mattered.

"Yes," she said, with a nod. "I was thinking that I know of something else that might make the day more up than it already is."

Several possibilities ran through Jeff's head all at once, but they couldn't be true. It was supposed to be an up thing. Up things were good things. He was fairly sure 'up' was on the good end of the metaphor spectrum.

"...Like what?" he said, grinning broadly now that he had established all of this.

"After careful consideration," Turtle announced importantly, hands settling in her lap as her back straightened and she approached the matter like a winning closing statement to a case, "and in realization that this is the last week of workshops so a conclusion had to be reached before it was too late, I have decided that I will take you up on your offer, Jeff, to move into your room and the extra bed. After all, that's practically what we already did this weekend, so we might as well keep up the trend, although I'll have to ask that we don't make a habit of so many chip bags on the floor."

Jeff stared at her. It was taking a few moments.

"...that's excellent," he said, finally. "That's really, really, really excellent. Do you need to move things? I've been known to lift things from time to time. I mean, I don't want to talk myself up, but sometimes things just have to be lifted, and sometimes I'm around, and sometimes these things sort of... mesh together."

He made helpful little finger gestures to make it all a little more overseeable.

"I figured," Turtle said, "that tomorrow we can submit the proper paperwork, and then we can sort of move the important things first, and then the less important things, throughout the week. I'm pretty sure Ella won't mind a little bit of a carry-over."

Jeff thought of a couple of things to say.

"...Are you sure?" is what came out first. "...Not that I don't want you to be sure. Please, be sure. I enjoy sureness in all its many forms." was second.

Turtle nodded. "Very sure," she told him. "And, really, it's just streamlining quite a lot of things for more efficiency. This last weekend was a rather good example of the fact that I kind of live there, anyway, and, after last weekend, it was kind of weird going back to my own room last night."

"We can't have that," Jeff said, with a little nod. "Weirdness is bad. Nothing good ever came of weirdness. Oh my god, you're moving in."

"...That's okay still, isn't it?" Turtle asked. Oh my gods got her nervous.

"...It's okay," Jeff blurted, "It's really okay. It's so okay I've got-- okay... growing out my ears. See? They've gotten bigger with all the-- I mean, yes. I mean, my room's got a bed and it's not extra. There's no more extra beds, and that's okay."

"...O...okay," Turtle said after a moment, with a light laugh. "Good. Tomorrow, then, we'll start...I'll start...moving up."

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Arms Hotel Lobby, Tuesday

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