I really can't get past her...I hesitate to call it 'style' but the right word is failing me. I've met enough like her to know that she's reaching that age when being the little rebel stops seeming cool. Let's be honest here, it's 2020, flannel stopped being 'in' in the mid 1990s. She seems a bit...temperamental but I have nothing against her. Other than disagreeing with her fashion, but that's a different story.



I've had the distinct...pleasure of being around when he was behind the bar and my little ears were burning and it wasn't from all the smoke and hard liquor. I believe he might not be as funny as he believes himself to be, but I'm not going to be the one to tell that to him.



I can't quite confirm it, but my working theory is that he and I dress ourselves for similar reasons. In that we're both wanting to look older than we, well, look. But I'm actually aging and I'm not so sure he is. Landlords don't look like him.



I'm lovely. I also tell people I'm from Greece because it makes me sound far more cultured.



I can't imagine the sort who wouldn't mind being thrown in cuffs so long as she was the officer on site. Lovely sort, but I can't imagine her to ever find love. Something about her just makes me think the romantic life would bore her to tears. And that's tragic.



Mordred is a fine friend even if our favored styles of music are diametrically opposed. He might not know it, but I'm a fan of his, not his music exactly but of his success. I wish him well and my door is always open for the strangest collaboration this side of David Bowie and Bing Crosby.



You'd think someone who wears sweat pants wouldn't be someone I'd want to associate with...but what can I say, he makes a half decent meal. My art is music and his is ink and skin, but art is art and it helped to have that in common. He's a good mate and definitely the best one I've roomed with.



She's a lovely sort and I really can't think of anything bad to say about her. Granted we're not exactly close friends, but when you've been around striking individuals as often as I have...you get a sense for these things. And my sense says she's lovely.



For someone so short the few times I've seen her she's looked like someone carrying a giant chip on her shoulder. I don't know why or what or even where...only that I hope someone takes her by the hand and tells her that everything is fine.



I don't have the courage to ask him if he's got a substance problem and that's kind of a rude thing to ask anyway. He seems interesting, in the sense that he's not just another grungy British youth.



People like Andrew tire me out. I always suspect the loudest voices in the protest to be the least honest ones, but that's probably because I've been to far too many in my life.



I don't know what neurosurgery is but I do know that Suriel is probably really, really good at bedside manner. It's all in the eyes.



I'd never let him touch my hair. He's like a cute little dog, except he also is the type of dog that would bite you and not let go. So I don't want him plus a pair of scissors anywhere near me.



I don't know why she hasn't settled down with someone. I'm a fan of romance and it just sort of seems, to me anyway, that she's someone that would've been swept off her feet before now. Maybe I should have her and John meet...but then they work together so if it was going to happen it would've by now. I'm projecting.



Wait this isn't about the Mona Lisa?



The biggest takeaway was that he was really tall and that made me feel...not short but...I don't know...small.



I have a long standing bet with a friend. My money is on he and Nikita using various rooms of the station for their own highly steamy hook ups. Or maybe that was in a trashy book I skimmed. Nice to think about, though, right?



She seems to keep to herself which is fine by me. I worry that she's not going to get the true university experience and make a lot of mistakes in the name of experimentation, but she's at that age. Or at least looks like it, hard to tell. No qualms. Would be surprised to see her in a bar.



I really have nothing on her. She's too young to even enter the thoughts that go through my head.



I'm not much for coffee so I guess I don't have anything. Sorry.



Those three sort of pool together in my mind, in the sense that I'm always thinking that they're hooking up. A quiet girl like Maggie and what a librarian? That's like feta cheese on a salad levels of perfect.



A fellow musician and a violinist at that. I don't know if she'd ever be up for a collaboration but my door is always open.



I've made myself clear.



He's got a unique name. I wonder if Suriel knows him. Kinda similar names. Maybe they're related. Or having a fling. Hoping for the latter.



I'm sure he's a lovely sort.



My reasons are shallow, but I've pictured him and that cute hair stylist together since the day I made the mistake and thought they were the same person. Sometimes all it takes to make a connection is a similar style.



My heart goes out to the young people that do thankless jobs for cash they desperately need. I hope she's enjoyed the tips.



Whenever I find myself at his record store it's specifically to shop. My interactions with him have been of the 'here's some money for this Ella Fitzgerald record that I now own seven copies of'.



She works down at the station, right? I'm waiting for the day I see her out with Nikita or Nicolas so that I can add another face to my list of 'people that should be hooking up with each other'.



I'm not sure if we have anything in common but she seems, and I don't use this word lightly, cool. As cool as the young people can be, anyway. The friend of my friend is also my friend to be.