It's good to finally be off that bus. And even better to be in fresh woolen socks with his feet kicked up on an ottoman and his body sinking into the welcoming embrace of an arm chair. On the side table next to him is a steaming mug of herbal tea, steeped for the recommend six minutes. There's more in the kettle for his roommates to have, if they so choose. From somewhere nearby, Christmas music softly wafts in.

Lionel re-opens Frankenstein, sets aside the bookmark, and picks up where he left off with a small, satisfied sigh. This isn't bad, he thinks. Not bad at all.