Jonothon had a set of keys in his hand. He'd been staring at them, vaguely perplexed, since sometime this morning. He'd tracked down the person who purported to have ownership of the Groovy Tunes, intending to ask what their asking price for the building was, and they'd laughed and thrown the keys and the ownership papers at him before making a mad dash for a convenient portal.
... Some people just couldn't get away from the island's insanity fast enough, apparently.
Jono had given his head a shake before heading back to the Boards to contemplate just what, exactly, this was going to mean. There was a series of rooms upstairs from the Groovy Tunes that he could move his things into, and it wasn't as though the small size of the kitchen or the bathroom up there were going to bother him any. The space over the Boards was huge, but he was only one man (or two-thirds of one, depending on how you looked at it), and without someone to share the flat with, what was he doing with all of those spare rooms, anyhow?
He knew people had been cautioning him not to rush into anything, but this seemed right to him, somehow. Very few things in Jonothon's life ever did.
And that was why he was making trips up and down the stairs, carrying the few boxes he had yet to actually unpack into the lobby of the Boards before making his way up for more. At the end of the day, he really didn't have all that much to lug around, anyhow. It wasn't like he was going to be bringing the dishes.
After about twenty minutes of this, while he was taking a short break, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to a handful of his friends.
Apparently I'm moving. A madman threw the keys to the Groovy Tunes at my head and fled the island today... Hooray?
[OOC: Working late again and my brain is melting a bit. Open for visits or return texts if anyone would be so kind as to distract me.]
- The Apartment Above the Boards, Monday Evening