soldtoarmenians

Xander's already handwavily sent out e-mails letting people know his new cellphone number if they didn't have it already, and his UC Sunnydale e-mail address, and... when he's leaving. Which he finally has to say 'tomorrow morning' about instead of 'Friday' because they're one and the same.

Now... he's still packing. Posters, folders, last-minute items and just stuff he wanted to leave up for as long as possible to make the room acknowledge that for now, he still lives here. Every so often he and Bridge are taking a break to look at pictures or watch a dvd, because at this point he's on the flipside of where he was yesterday: if he packs too fast, the room'll be empty, and Xander can't quite take that, not yet.

You can't really say Jeremiah's taking a break; he'd have to have been working in the first place for that to be true. He's just going back and forth between supervising the packing and supervising the loafing.

The door is open. Xander's yearbook is on the desk next to Jeremiah, for anyone who feels like signing it.

__

[Open all day, or ping in tomorrow if needed since some importantomg people are unfortunately afk today. Good for slowplay until... it's done.]

He'd found the package outside his door when he'd left the lobby on Friday afternoon, but the whole Shirtless Friday thing had kind of distracted Xander from a lot of stuff. Like unpacking half the boxes still scattered around his new room, or doing more than setting the wrapped package on his desk next to Jeremiah's tank.

Now, though, after sprinkling some dried don't-really-wanna-think-about-what-it-used-to-be into Jeremiah's tank, Xander reached for the flat, paper-wrapped package, and, after checking for anything obvious that looked like it might turn him blue or change him into a marmoset, pulled the paper off. ( Within was a framed manuscript page. )