[ It's a good thing Jack can't see the totally dubious look on Jefferson's face right now. He's just sitting on the edge of the bed, on the ugly, scratchy, floral-printed comforter. Who ever wants to talk to Jefferson-- at least, besides the very small handful of people he can call his acquaintances. And he has to assume this has nothing to do with his shop, since he's being called at the motel.
no subject
So... ]
You're not selling something, are you?