(no subject)

Sawyer wakes up from his afternoon nap and rolls over toward his nightstand. He was about halfway through his book on Greek mythology and was absorbing as much of it as he could. He figures it's probably important stuff to know; otherwise, the book wouldn't have just appeared one day.

Except it's disappeared this morning. So much for that theory. In its place is a magazine lying face down. Sawyer flips it over and looks at the title: Pointe Magazine: ballet at its best.

"Very fucking funny!" he calls out to the building in general. He crumbles the magazine in his hand as he stomps out the door and down the stairs to the bar.