Jono was going to light Portalocity on fire, one of these days. Or, at least, whatever part of Portalocity had been responsible for him spending two days in the spotted dick reality (which had more to do with food and less to do with genitalia), about the span of a week stranded in the middle of a world that had been infested with fireball-spitting toothy flowers, an afternoon treading water in a shark-infested swimming pool, and, thank goodness, a waiting room fashioned entirely out of towels.
And then they'd dropped him off in the middle of Sidra, while a Glacian autumn storm kicked up.
By the time Jono finally trudged his way into the Estate, he was cold, wet, sore, slightly more charred than usual, and if biting was something he was physically capable of doing, he probably would be. The going was pretty slow when you were one of a small handful of people actually crazy enough to be out in this weather, and the few other crazy people kept stopping you to go, "Hey, aren't you the General?"
Jono did not walk into the building so much as he stomped in, scaring the hell out of a hearth witch who had been sweeping there. He was actually somehow grumpier than usual.
Someday, he'd actually put in the money for a direct portal with no alternate-timeline stopovers along the way.
[OOC: For one!]
- The Estate, Sidra, Glacia, Thursday Fandom Time