soldtoarmenians | Flamingo A-4, latish Monday evening

Crazy week? Doesn't even begin to cover it. There'd been running into Conner, Anders, and Z, which had lead to a trip to Caritas on Wednesday, then trying to convince Bridge he needed to OMG specify when complaining about teachers who made him take his shirt off in class on Thursday, then a picnic and later sneaking off from the Seahorse campfire on Friday. Then Saturday he'd been having a very nice wake-up call until they realized somebody'd stolen their voices, leading to much worried checking on people, being trapped in the dorms for the night and eventually a crazy-late chat-room experience -- followed by another night locked in the dorms on Sunday. Not that locked in the dorms was bad, per se, but everybody locked in the dorms and going stir-crazy from worry was an experience Xander could live without repeating.

So it really isn't too surprising that it's taken until now, when they're safe again, have their voices back and are back in the cabins, for Xander to get around to remembering that last week, he'd promised to um. Do something. For um. Somebody.

Which leaves him sitting in his alcove in Flamingo cabin with the curtain shut and headphones on, staring at his laptop. As you do when you're doing that particular something. In a cabin.

[For Bridge, for the moment. Possibly for later appearance by certain other peoples]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bridge wanders in to the cabin, as one is wont to do when one's boyfriend lives there. He heads over to Xander's alcove, knocking on the wall next to it.

Xander, sadly, hears nothing.

Huh. Okay. Bridge pushes the curtain aside slightly and pokes his head in.

Xander? Still staring at the screen. And occasionally clicking the trackpoint-thingy.

Bridge notices the laptop and earphones, and wonders just what Xander is so focused on. So he goes over to poke him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"AGGHGH!"

You'd think it wasn't possible to make that noise while simultaneously squeaking like a girl, trying to close a laptop, and almost falling off a camp-bed, but you'd be so, so wrong.

"It's...nice to see you too?"

Xander blinks hard and, you know, tries not to have a heart attack, since it's just Bridge. "Oh. Hi."

Not that he's opening the laptop screen, mind you.

"Whatcha doin'?" Bridge asks, peering suspiciously at the laptop.

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soldtoarmenians - 2006-07-18 05:40 (UTC) - Expand

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It's a good thing somebody's got the presence of mind to try that. Xander's not even bothering.

"Um."

"Please?" Bridge tries, going for the wide-eyed look.

"Oh yeah, that's helping. Now I feel like I'm corrupting a minor." Which he, um, probably is, in most states. But since he said it in the present tense and all, Xander has the sinking feeling that means he's about to cave.

"Considering we've probably *done*... whatever it is you're watching, how is *looking* at it gonna corrupt me?" Bridge asks, thwapping Xander on the shoulder.

Xander sighs and opens the screen. And clicks the play button again.

"Huh. Looks different from this angle," Bridge comments thoughtfully. And after a moment: "Okay. Well. We haven't done... that."

"...not so much, no."

"Would you want to?" Bridge says, reaching to unplug the earphones, because watching with the sound off was... weird. Especially so, considering the events of the weekend.