http://just-add-starch.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] just-add-starch.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] fandomhighdorms2006-03-14 07:47 pm

First Floor Lobby [Tuesday Evening]

Fraser's reading a book he'd checked out from the library. He thinks it might be overdue and, thus, he's prepared to pay his fines. He makes a point to remember to visit the library tomorrow morning.

For now, he's quietly reading. Yes, he's wearing the hat and yes, Dief is sitting at his feet.

[Open for interaction yay!]
soldtoarmenians: (grin)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-15 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
"Just student. Singular. As far as I know. He's got a war on with the Journalism teacher, who happens to be a witch." Xander shrugs. "John's kind of clinically insane, but, you know. In the good way."
soldtoarmenians: (red)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-15 03:47 am (UTC)(link)
"Eh. She's always turn him back into a real boy so far. And he hasn't done anything crazier than dress up in weird costumes and pretend to be British." Xander snaps his fingers. "Oh yeah, speaking of which, presents." He holds up the bag.
soldtoarmenians: (latin)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-15 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
Xander... does not smile. In fact he looks undecided between sadness and awkwardness. This is in no way because there had been a present for Constable Fraser, but halfway between Marble Arch and Tandoori Hut Nights, the phrase 'What the hell are you doing?' had finally beaten its way into Xander's consciousness, and suddenly there was a present for John, instead.

"Um. Kind of sort of? In the way where it's presents for Diefenbaker?"

Xander opens the bag and pulls out several packets of Walker's Crisps in flavours like Smoky Bacon, Chicken and Thyme, and Worcester Sauce, as well as a packet of chocolate biscuits.

"I...couldn't decide what he'd like best, so I kind of bought it all?" he adds lamely.
soldtoarmenians: (red)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-15 05:25 am (UTC)(link)
Xander is completely spazzimicated by the totally cheaty icon the smile, well, breathing, frankly. But at least he's smiling again himself, if spazzily, since Fraser doesn't seem disappointed.

"Yeah. I mean, free trip to England. Hard not to have a good time. Even if I did get writtenated on during the ride back."
soldtoarmenians: (1-smile)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-15 03:12 pm (UTC)(link)
"I fell asleep. My friends think they're funny."
soldtoarmenians: (decorated)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-15 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)
He's so not mentioning the makeup and the nailpolish. Not. Not. Not. Not.

"Er. They felt the need to tell people that my arm was buttery. And they drew fish on me. Plusamapleleafonmyforehead."
soldtoarmenians: (facepalm2)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-15 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Xander pinches the bridge of his nose. "No, but there... may have been some discussion of Canadians at dinner over the weekend." Most of which he'd participated in from behind a menu, but anyway. "That's probably what put the idea in their heads."
soldtoarmenians: (facepalm2)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-15 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"There was some admiration of certain Canadian fashion choices," Xander allows, not entirely comfortably. "The girls really like a man in uniform, apparently."

And out of--- NO. Do NOT REMEMBER THAT. NO. Where the hell is a menu to hid behind when you need one, Xander wonders.

Most assuredly do not PICTURE tha-- DAMMIT!

Which is about when Xander remembers he's standing in the middle of the lobby. Except the emphasis there should be on the verb.

Oh GOD, where the hell is a TABLE to hide behind when you need one?

He settles for an empty plastic grocery bag. And dies a little, inside.


__
{and finally gets the html right...}
soldtoarmenians: (Default)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-16 04:18 am (UTC)(link)
Linoleum, Xander reminds himself. The linoleum principal still applies. Regardless of the fact that the lobby is carpeted and there is in fact no linoleum in sight, it's the the basic concept of the thing that matters. He's nineteen; dust motes make him have to hide behind shopping bags.

He thinks of Snyder. Okay, Snyder in a dress. Snyder in a dress with a racoon on his head. Snyder in a dress with a raccoon for a head. Snyder in a Mountie uni-- NooOOoooOoo.

Huh, okay. He's warped, clearly, but at least it worked.

"I'm... not sure?" Xander manages to answer, discreetly dropping the bag on a chair now. Aaaand walking behind it, just in case. Aaaaand thanking any deity in listening range that Constable Mountie, for all his advanced observational skills in professional areas, seems to have a bizarre case of nearsightedness at random times.

"The library girls seemed kind of interested in actually going to Canada to do research on Canadian men clothes. To see if it was just you the novelty or not, I guess."
soldtoarmenians: (Default)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-16 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
Xander frowns at the idea of one on one sessions, for some reason. And remains behind the chair. Just in case. "I'd say group. That way you wouldn't waste your time repeating the same information."

He is occasionally under the impression that he is very clever.
soldtoarmenians: (Default)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-16 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
"In, um, a We Heart Canada Club of some kind?" Xander grins, mildly amused. "Yeah, I think there might be a wee stir of enthusiasm." Okay, perhaps not the best phrasing.
soldtoarmenians: (1-worried)

[personal profile] soldtoarmenians 2006-03-16 08:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Xander's head kind of tilts while he tries to decide if this worries him (or why ot would, if it does). "You mean your life here? You're not bored with Fandom already, are you?"

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