Oh yeah, *that* day.
Feb. 14th, 2006 08:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soldtoarmeniansTraditionally? Not the best day for Xander Harris. Not that he was feeling bitter or emo or in any way cribbing from his ex, because that would require reading her bitter emo mind, and Xander lacked that power.. Ms. Calendar had done a fine job of reminding him exactly why, yesterday - which hit he'd taken like a very manly man, because yeah. Stupid and Xander are intimately acquainted, and not in the way that means you leave a scarf tied around the door handle to warn your roomie that you and Stupid are gettin' down to some funky scrapbookin' in the room, and she might wanna hit the Common Room for a while. A couple floors away.
Which... sounded like not that bad of an idea, if he actually didn't want to get bitter and emo about his current lack of a partner for any art projects besides the ones in Professor Car's class. Xander shook his head, grabbed his present from the roomie and, after a thoughtful glance at his desk, Jeremiah's tank-handle.
"Come on, pal. Let's go hang out with the other losers. Not that I need cheering up, but you look like you could use the company. You're kinda shading toward indigo there."
Granted, that might've been the result of that last can of amphibi-sticks with the funny black label that said 'Made in Ry'leh, contents may arise from the sunken depths and herald the return of the Great Old Ones. Get a free shub-niggurathling with three proofs of purchase and the soul of your firstborn tadpole.' Or not.
Together, they headed for the 2nd floor Common Room.
Which... sounded like not that bad of an idea, if he actually didn't want to get bitter and emo about his current lack of a partner for any art projects besides the ones in Professor Car's class. Xander shook his head, grabbed his present from the roomie and, after a thoughtful glance at his desk, Jeremiah's tank-handle.
"Come on, pal. Let's go hang out with the other losers. Not that I need cheering up, but you look like you could use the company. You're kinda shading toward indigo there."
Granted, that might've been the result of that last can of amphibi-sticks with the funny black label that said 'Made in Ry'leh, contents may arise from the sunken depths and herald the return of the Great Old Ones. Get a free shub-niggurathling with three proofs of purchase and the soul of your firstborn tadpole.' Or not.
Together, they headed for the 2nd floor Common Room.
