download the PDF file - Whoa is (Not)

Conor's wrist tag gave a digital beep as he entered The Salty Snail, Kenselton Hotel's very own bar.Dim lights, drunk people and the smell of alcohol hit him as he entered looking for an age-restrictedbeverage. He surreptitiously stole a packet of free peanuts from a table and stuffed it into his pocket.He looked up at the disco lights. He looked down at the drunk people on the floor-"Hey, you!" someone said.Conor wondered about the best way to navigate around the inebriated teenager lying by his feet.Someone prodded him. "Hey!"Conor jumped. A uniformed Kenselton Hotel bar staff was standing there, holding a box-like electricalcontraption. "206?"Conor suddenly felt guilty about the peanuts. "What?""Yep," she confirmed, running the contraption in a quick sweep over the general vicinity of his wrist tag."Get that guy there back to your floor, will ya?" she asked, pointing at one of the unconscious forms atthe bar counter. "He's taking up space.""What-" Conor started again, but she had vanished into the crowd, and didn't seem to care much aboutthe peanuts.He looked at the unconscious person in question, grimaced, and made his way through the crowdtowards him. Arriving, he shifted aside the one-third-full glass of age-restricted beverage and huncheddown on the counter to briefly study the guy's face. Yep, Keanu-spawn."Hey," he said.Eyes opened slowly and tried to focus on Conor.It could have been him instead, Conor thought. Just a few drinks later. Judging from the number ofseriously drunk people lying about, this place had good beer. Or just a lot of sorrows that neededdrowning.Conor clapped a hand on the other's back. "Come on, buddy," he said. "Let's get out of here. Can youwalk, or do I need to drag you?""...You owe me a drink," Conor muttered some time later as he trudged back to the fourth floor of BlockF, the other guy's feet dragging along the floor, arm hanging inanimately around Conor's neck.There was a newcomer standing on the fourth floor landing gazing thoughtfully at the door when Conordragged his semi-conscious bar souvenir up the last bit of stairs.The newcomer took a reflexive step back, staring at them-"Hi," Conor said. "Uh, can you give me a hand here?"A pause, then: "Sure," and Conor gratefully shifted over some of the weight. He kicked at the door. Itwouldn't open. He turned the handle, and it did.They entered the corridor. Alex and Eddie Talbot were sitting against the wall, talking quietly aboutsomething or other. Alex glanced briefly at them, then returned to the conversation.They unloaded the human bar souvenir onto the lower bunk bed of an empty room.Conor lifted up the left arm and made it join the rest of its body on the bed. "I'm Conor," he said. "He'sdrunk. And you are?""Paul," replied the other, pushing the left leg into place and wondering if it might have been a better ideato lay the fellow on his back instead. "Paul Sutton."Conor nodded. "Thanks for your help."Alex came through the doorway, looking at the semi-conscious individual on the bed."And that's Alex," Conor said, gesturing vaguely.