The desk was piled high withs books and sheets of paper and the bookcase was full of thick volumes. That along with the rumpled white bedclothes was the only sign that the room was occupied. He'd never really bothered making it homely, personalising it, because he'd never expected to be here this long and as months had turned into years, and he'd spent more time on missions, he'd just never really got around to it.
Still, it was better than the cafeteria, he supposed. He shooed Al inside and followed afterwards, closing the door behind himself. He perched on the end on the bed and looked up at his younger brother.
What the hell did you say in this kind of situation?