Room 401, Wednesday Morning

Vic woke up and groaned at his clock. Mornings were for squares, man. He thit the alarm four more times before he finally pulled himself out of bed.

He dressed quickly -- black turtleneck, black pants, low-top sneakers -- slicked his hair back, and looked around for something to do. He could reread "On the Road," but books weren't really his scene. Instead, he found his bongos and started beating out some sweet, sweet rhythms. Music was the best.

[OOC: Door/post open if you are drawn by those tasty bongo rhythms!]