(Untitled)

[fatboyrun]

Thud.

To get married?

Thud.

Or not to get married.

Thud.

It really shouldn't be a question.

ThudLying spread-eagled on the bedroom floor in a smart suit, Dennis Doyle rebounds the back of his head off the floor one last time and then lets it rest with a whimper, staring at the ceiling in desperate hopes that it will provide the answer he's

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[goonandrun]

It's roughly five minutes before a pair of feet come to a stop behind him.

It's a few seconds after that when the petals of a fake flower are being snowed gently down on Dennis' head.

Once that stops, there's a rather resigned sigh.

"I suppose I don't have to tell you that you're fucked?"

[fatboyrun]

"No," says Dennis tonelessly, voice muffled by his hands. "But you're going to say it anyway, so go ahead."

[goonandrun]

Gordon weighs his choices.

He thinks about it.

Then he weighs them again.

Finally, "You're fucked."

[fatboyrun]

Dennis moves one hand from his face long enough to make a listless 'ta' sort of gesture.

After a moment: "How'd you find me?"