<span style="font-size: 15px">Desmond shuffled in his spot a little bit as Iris wished him good night. He had a relaxed and peaceful expression on his face. A faint smile on his face. A drunk, sleeping dog. <br/>
<br/>
When he woke up, he felt groggy. Hung over. His mind swirled as he lifted his head from the table. The bottle would roll and break as it hit the ground. It caused him to tense up, quickly glancing around and realizing how little he'd really slept. There was nobody in sight, not one that he noticed. He would have to sweep it up himself. Standing up made him groan, and he would spend much of his time trying to find the janitor's closet. </span>