thirteenth new york minute;
[the journal picks up a low groan and the rustling of blankets as Lily rolls over in her bed -- tired and disoriented and very, very hungover.]
Hey-- [she clears her throat] Hey, castle. Gimmie a tuna melt. Greasiest, dirtiest you got.
[pause]
Oh, come on. You can do better than that. I'm talking 24-hour diner stuff, here.
[another pause, followed by a long, suffering sigh.]
That's more like it. And a strawberry milkshake.
[there's some silence while she nibbles at her sandwich, and then there's a small 'ugh.']
Worst New Year's ever.
Hey-- [she clears her throat] Hey, castle. Gimmie a tuna melt. Greasiest, dirtiest you got.
[pause]
Oh, come on. You can do better than that. I'm talking 24-hour diner stuff, here.
[another pause, followed by a long, suffering sigh.]
That's more like it. And a strawberry milkshake.
[there's some silence while she nibbles at her sandwich, and then there's a small 'ugh.']
Worst New Year's ever.