On the inside of room 505, Katchoo was . . . fairly futilely trying to clean up some of the disaster zone. Look, she'd at least managed to get the other, unused bed cleared off and the mattress flipped (sorry about the stray cigarette ash there, Francine), and an amazingly diverse collection of empty booze containers had gone out to recycling, but everything else?

Certified disasterporn-movie fallout zone. But a fallout zone with at least enough floorspace to put Francine's things down.

Katchoo's side of the room might bite, though.