soldtoarmenians

There was something Xander was supposed to do when he woke up, and this time the fuzziness wasn't because of weekend weirdness, it was just tied into the whole unpleasant "waking up" concept. He stumbled around the room for a few minutes, feeding Jeremiah, brushing teeth, and doing other wakey-up things, before he finally remembered his conversations with Parker and Callisto last night. (And the one with Bridge, but bears didn't seem to have any direct relevance to the issue, even this early in the morning.) He was supposed to be trying to track down the weekend weirdness by checking his outgoing mail.

...*blink* ...*squint trying to read own bad typing*...*blink more*...*facepalm*

Right. Damage-control. If such a thing was possible.

( Dear Willow: )

No more than a few minutes later, a reply appeared.

( Dear Xander: )

Xander sighed, flipped up iTunes and put it on shuffle, then started downloading Sunday and Monday night's radio shows to see if they could give him a clue to anything else he might've said or done while truthified.

[Door's open, if anyone feels like wandering by.]

( Dear Willow: )
( Dear Xander: )

*headkeyboard*

Only in Fandom can you have subject lines like that, dude.

Xander ducked into his room from the party, where Isabel was still presumably hanging out, and where he'd just left Bridge. He grabbed the presents he'd bought at IKEA from his closet, tapped Jeremiah's tank and said, "Stop snickering at me; I can see you rolling your eyes, you know," then headed out again, down to Bridge's room.

After returning from registration and helping himself happily to some of the pretzels Isabel had left out for him -- and eyeing the Tabasco sauce warily but not touching it -- Xander checked his voicemail.

And stopped after hearing the first one. Then he replayed it. Several times. If there were anyone in the room besides Jeremiah, they'd have seen his face go through an amazing variation of expressions, from confused to -- very briefly -- contemplative, to completely freaked out.

Then, before his brain had really re-engaged, he picked up the phone and thought he called Marty back.

When he'd slammed the phone down from that experience, and buried his head in his hands for a few moments, he looked up to see Jeremiah watching him intently. "What?" he asked, his face still rather pale.

"Blerbbit?"

"Yes, I know I was in complete spaz-out mode, thank you. Wouldn't you be? Or do you get a lot of ferret-sex offers from other boy frogs? Assuming you're actually a boy, and no, I'm not checking right now; one of us might get the wrong idea, judging by how today is going."

Sighing, he picked up the phone, intending to call Marty back and try to sound like less of a closet basket case. Or possibly hang up in a panic when the machine picked up; he'd burn that bridge when he got to it. Except he never got to it, because he heard the skip in the dial tone indicating there were more voicemails.

After letting the second one play, the idea of sex with Marty was suddenly saved for his private gentleman's time in the shower not the biggest issue on his mind. He quickly called Parker or not to let her know what he'd heard.

The third message just made him giggle hysterically and not remotely suspect that the others had been wrong numbers, though that might have been residual WTF-overflow from the first two.

( But wait, there's more! [Phale, Cordy, Janet, and Logan] )