It was Saturday, and Jon liked to make himself explicitly available to anybody who needed him at least once a week, so his door was propped open and the sign said he was in.

He also needed to do some laundry, because he'd made a brief excursion outside to smoke yesterday and gotten pelted with sticky marshmallows.

Which...he frowned...seemed to be happening again today?

The Eye informed him that something was wrong, but it didn't seem important enough to say more, so Jon would avoid actively Knowing unless that looked to change.

He'd just be checking out the lobby, doing some rounds, and maybe going outside to make sure the marshmallow snow wasn't an issue, if he could find an umbrella.