<div class="floatleft">(http://blog.chosenmodels.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/DSC00812.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Damon Millican<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Parker Commons Lobby<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Dmitri, Martina, Ryder, Open<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Change of clothes.<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>It's still the same. (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=147482125)<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Damon listened patiently as Ryder and Martina gave Dmitri the stranger's equivalent of the 'put on a sweater' speech mothers... Wait, did anyone's mother actually tell them that? Damon couldn't recall either his mother or his nanny ever telling him to put a sweater on... Not that that meant much, given how scatterbrained he was being today. He was vaguely aware of Ryder and Martina flirting more brazenly with each other, and much more aware of the nagging feeling at the back of his brain about Dmirti. It would have been infuriating if Damon was in an irritable mood, but as it stood was merely a mild annoyance. As his brain came full circle to the problem the cold presented to the man wearing a bathrobe and bunny slippers, Damon snapped his fingers quietly again and rather abruptly began fiddling with his bag.<br/><br/>"<strong>I have a spare sweater and socks in my bag...</strong>" he said, undoing the clasps and rifling through the mess, "<strong>And... I think they should fit? Sweater is pretty baggy on me, so that shouldn't be a problem, and unless your feet are larger than size 11, the socks should be fine, too.</strong>" He continued to sift through the bag as he spoke, the sound of crinkling paper occasionally interrupted by the rattle of pills. "<strong>Um... Hmph... Ah, there we go.</strong>" He finally extracted a lumpy forest green wool sweater and a balled-up pair of black socks from the depths of his bag, and held them out to Dmitri. "<strong>"It's faster than going upstairs to change, right?</strong>"