soldtoarmenians

It hadn't exactly been an eventful day; his only class was Art History and that had been a blow-off movie hour with the crazy nun again. The crazy art nun, not the crazy sex-tips nun, although they looked disturbingly like they might be related. Hadn't been a bad day, either, especially not compared to ~OMG Robots Attack!~

But Xander's head was starting to ache again, and his burned finger throbbed; he really wasn't up for heading out to see whether there was anybody in the common room who didn't know about his new weird power and could be freaked out by some less than random channel flipping. Fun, but maybe later when he wasn't so tired and achey.

While he dutifully followed doctor's orders and didn't use booze to bribe the little guy with the mallet, Xander did substitute an overly-large handful of Excedrin, and a twinkie. Because caffeine and sugar? Always conducive to a restful night's sleep. They cut into the headache a bit, but not the tiredness; by the time he'd read and answered a couple e-mails from Parker, Xander was falling asleep over his laptop, and barely had time to move it off the bed before he zonked out completely.

( Dream, cut so you can just say no to crack. )

And Xander smacked at his alarm clock with a muttered FRAK. He hit his burned finger on it, and followed that up with a FRELL that wasn't remotely muttered.

And it was 7 a.m., and he had to get up for Shop, and damn if he could remember what the hell he'd just dreamt. He guessed he really would just have to make something up for class today. Also, cheerful? Not so much. Though not entirely inexplicable, what with the hour and the ow.

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{Dream people utterly modded without their permission, OMG.}