soldtoarmenians (
soldtoarmenians) wrote2006-08-10 12:21 pm
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Room 121, Thursday, lunchtime
Xander, sitting at his desk and staring intelligently into space, occasionally tapping a finger against Jeremiah's tank, is trying to decide something very important.
Food?
Nap?
Food?
Nap?
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[For the b-word-person. Sidling towards NWS]
Food?
Nap?
Food?
Nap?
__
[For the b-word-person. Sidling towards NWS]
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He narrows his eyes. "But not in your underwear."
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"You comin'?"
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Look, there are some straight-lines that it's actually illegal to let lie there. That's one of them.
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