He shakes his head wearily. His room - fuck. Room 44. Yeah, real swell, past him. Dumbass picking that thing out like it was a little private joke. And then, hey, couple of assholes in a mask and a hood start mocking him for it, today is your last birthday. Yeah? Is it?

Fuck them anyway.

"I'll make it there fine," he mutters, because verbal communication is best for these sorts of situations, right? Yeah. Probably. "Just needed a minute. Process everything."