The Roof, Wednesday Afternoon

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

Wesley hadn't handwavily gotten back to Fandom until late last night, and he was still in something of a funk about everything that had happened.

Fired. Again.

The last time he'd been fired, he'd been sent here as punishment. Now he'd been fired from the job he'd intended to take on after graduation, and he... hadn't applied to university. Hadn't even thought of it very much, to be honest; the idea of going away to university now after having worked on the Hellmouth and gone to school at Fandom and worked for Angel for two years, dealing with all the crises that emerged along the way (the mayor's Ascension, Panem, the rock, the disappearances and memory alterations, Faith...) was... a bit preposterous, really. But now he had nothing to do but possibly see if his father might take him back in, and, well. Wesley didn't really much want to do that at all.

So. Here he stood. Brooding. Because that would solve the problem.

At least he wasn't drinking?

[[open roof of broodiness, la.]]

Fifth Floor Common Room, Wednesday night

[willbethenight.livejournal.com]

Continuing on with his new tradition of making a point to take some time to actually enjoy being social, Bruce made his way out to the common room. The TV was already on cartoons when he walked in, though. Classic Looney Tunes.

Really, Bruce probably hadn't even seen any of these cartoons since he was eight, but he found it amazing how quickly he related to it. The villain was designated as such by his use of a gun. The hero used his wits, disguises, and bent laws (both civil and physical) to overcome this shady Fudd character. Even when Fudd declared his intention to stew Bugs, the rabbit got out of it by declaring himself a fricasseeing rabbit and demanded that Fudd produce a license for that. And it worked! Absolute brilliance.

Who knew that Bruce was missing out on lessons that could have been inspirational just because he had long ago declared cartoons childish and not worth his time?

Bruce made some popcorn and kept watching as the less intelligent but apparently near-invulnerable (judging by how little he was killed after being shot in the face repeatedly), glory-seeking duck started to poke his bill into matters. That wouldn't eventually define the early dynamic between Bruce and a future friend. Not at all.

[OOC: I've been in a Looney Tunes mood anyway, but let's call it WB corporate synergy. Open as a common room tends to be.]