#deathcouchstarter

“You can judge me all you want but, in the end, I’m the one with a pint of ice cream and you’re not so... ha.”

Owen wasn’t sure whose phone he had, but it wasn’t his fault that they had left it out and unlocked.  It was like they were asking for him to mess around with it.  He had already changed the language and was changing the backgrounds to random pictures when he saw someone staring at him.  “Oh, is this your phone?” he asked, acting innocent. 

Fletcher chuckled as he looked at his phone, scrolling through his instagram feed. “Everyone’s on the beach getting burnt alive while we’re here, sweating our asses off onstage. I can’t decide which I’d rather do...”

“Just out of curiosity, how did I match with the one guy on Tinder that wanted to talk about feelings and relationships instead of hooking up?  Like that seems like the opposite of how my night should have gone.”

It was hot and humid and Brooks’ hair was not built for either. She was an autopilot, trying to get to the theater, only half looking where she was going as she tried to get her hair off of her neck, and in the process whacking someone in the face with her hair.  “Oh no, I’m sorry,” she insisted, her eyes widening as she expected for them to yell.

"Is it too late to start thinking about next year’s Tony awards, because the pickings for this year are pretty sad if you ask me.”

“No, sorry I didn’t mean for her to scream right into the phone Dad, but what were you saying about the nominations?” Roman asked as he tried to calm Ava down before his phone slipped from under his ear and shattered on the ground.  “Great...” he muttered under his breath before realizing that someone had been watching the whole thing.  “Oh...hi.”