Work."As I speak, I keep my eyes away from Sebastian's face. His spoon stops in his cup."The funeral home?" He rolls his shoulders, creeped out. "Isn'... that a little...morbid?" Well...it's just that it's a place I'm comfortable. I have keys, we could go in at night and be alone. And even then, it's just me and Mr. Trotsky, and he's, like, 80. So it'll be private."Just like I'd done while working up the courage to broach the subject, Sebastian now takes a sip of his coffee, working everything. "Oh, I'm sure He has," he said, nodding. "He has a plan for all of us."I just laughed and clapped him on the back. "Oh, I'm sure," I snarked, good-naturedly. Then I picked up my bags and headed to my new room while he went back to his studying. I grinned at him. "At least you have your own room now."He looked at me, grimly. "Any other circumstances, hermano, and I would be grateful." I know, dude. I know."With that, I made my way down the stairs to room 193. I ran into Edward and Ingrid in the. More

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