Now he was simply sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands resting on his stomach. He frowned, letting out a brief sigh and reaching to run his thin fingers through his hair. His pride told him to leave now, to go back to that little loft he called home and to leave Angel behind, prove that he could make it on his own, take care of himself. His stomach was telling him not to listen to his pride, that his pride was a moron and that he would be much better off staying at the Hyperion, where there was plenty to eat and a real bed to sleep in, not to mention several bathrooms with working toilets and hot water.
His stomach, so far, was winning the fight, though he knew there would be drawbacks to staying. The tension between his father and himself seemed to have lessened some, but not enough to talk about -- and Connor was fairly sure that after recent events, their progress didn't much matter anymore. Staying at the hotel would only remind him of all that had happened, of all that he had unknowingly brought upon all those who lived there as well as the LA populace. Jasmine had come and gone and left utter chaos in her wake, and already a new enemy was upon them.
While he didn't know much about their new foe, he knew that the others had to blame him for the former. He certainly blamed himself. He didn't know how he could have forseen the consequences of his actions, but it didn't matter. Hindsight was not necessarily always 20/20. He wanted to stay... but knowing how the others must feel about him now didn't do much in the way of convincing him to do so. Aside from that... the whole hotel reeked of Jasmine. Everything there now reminded him of her, of the peace he had felt when she had walked among them. He had known it was a lie right from the start... but it was a nice lie. A lie he really wanted to believe in, unlike so many of the others he had been told.
He sighed again and rolled over onto his left side, glancing at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It was past dinnertime... he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He grunted softly, shutting his eyes tight for a moment before resolving to get up. He hit the floor with nothing but socks on his feet, leaving his sneakers behind as he made his way out into the corridor and towards the stairs. The prospect of a real dinner was enough to make him brave the wave of newcomers, though he still hoped he wouldn't have to talk to any of them. Maybe if he just avoided eye contact...
((Open to anyone.))