Better after running out into the night was an option, which he hadn't specified. Hadn't thought he needed to specify, since Gumshoe's eyes were still tracking motion and nothing smelled like weed. Getting trapped in the room with a monster, shitty. Monster rampaging in the hallways, shitty, but less guaranteed death for someone. He'd seen enough people die this week.

S.T. was unimpressed by his roommate. Which put him above 71% of the roommates he'd found via the classifieds or the B.U. administration. Landel was beating random chance and bureaucracy again, since Gumshoe was the only ultra-square he'd landed.

"Sure," was all he said. Company was a good idea, unless, again, the turning-into-a-monster possibility.

He was saved by the bell. The intercom clicked on before he'd even had a chance to flail around for another small-talk six-pack of awkward silences.

[continued in nightshift]