5th Floor Common Room ; Tuesday Afternoon

[flickofthewrist]

Well, his classes this time around didn't seem to be too bad. He didn't have to look at his own grief and think about those he missed and he'd gotten lie without being lectured for it. All in all, it wasn't bad. His father must have been drunk when he'd chosen his classes. Drunk or distracted. Either or, Flick didn't care. He wasn't thankful to that jackass either.

Classes were done for the week and the talk of food earlier had made him hungry. He'd scrounged around the kitchen area and managed to find some cereal and milk. It meant he didn't have to cook anything which, as he found out earlier, wasn't a strength. He'd have to do something about that. He liked excelling in classes and showing everyone up. He'd done it at Mandel and he wanted to do it here.

But, he'd figure out the whole cooking thing later. He took his cereal and sat down on the couch, plunking his feet down on the coffee table. He didn't feel relaxed often but he felt pretty okay right now. That just meant he was tense with waiting for the other shoe to drop. It hadn't yet so he even chanced during on the television.

And he found nothing worth watching. He was just going to leave it on some news feed. Maybe he'd get to see Lucian Mandel being led away in handcuffs. That would make this day exceptional.

Wouldn't happen but a guy could wish.

[Open, ofc]

The Shooting Range | Tuesday Afternoon

[nottrivial]

It was a mark of Alec's truly impressive disinterest in Fandom goings-on that he'd managed to miss the arrival of the new students without even knowing the picnic had come and gone. He had spent his break week preoccupied with what he considered more important things. Training, mostly. There had been a couple trips to the mainland for patrolling and the like, but for the most part he'd been at the gym and the range.

And the start of the new term of classes did nothing to interfere with that routine, because here Alec was again, halfway through a quiver of arrows that certainly wasn't his first of the day, face glistening with sweat as he fired off one after another. Arrow after arrow pierced the target, forming a tight, compact cluster around the bullseye.

You might even say Alec was working through something.

[[open!]]