The Gym, Sunday Early Morning

[intraspective]

Ino, despite her best attempts, was still drowsy and half-asleep from the sleepover at Lana's when she slipped into the gym and started her stretches. She blinked, somewhat bemused, she'd beaten Liir. Ha.

She let herself dwell on that rather than anything that might be waiting for her to wear in her room--at least she could console herself with the fact that, no matter what he picked, she'd picked it out to buy, so it couldn't be that bad.

Right, then. No fretting allowed.

Well. Minimal flailing was permitted, seriously.

[Ino is here for Liir, but totally open for any of your Gym-ish or Ino-ish needs.]

Fifth Floor Common Room, Sunday Evening

[scary-jeff.livejournal.com]

He had it all. Bags of crisps? Check. The right channel and time? Check. The bright red shawl to clearly display that he was rooting for the only decent team in this match? Check.

It was time for the Eurocup finals. Germany against Spain.

Jeff might have been a little bit overexcited. You could tell by the fact his shirt, pants, and headgear currently managed to coordinate, in that way where different shades of the same colour entirely didn't coordinate, with his shawl.

"No Villa," he muttered, "That's not good. Kick Ballack really hard!"

He always had a habit of getting carried away.

[ open! have some crisps. ]