Night 53: F1-F10 Hallway
"Dude, you are totally bugnuts crazy," Yuffie told the intercom.
She stood by her bed, hopping vaguely as she pulled up her socks. The rest of her clothes, sans shorts and bra, were in a messy, rumpled pile on top of her equally messy, rumpled bedsheets. Next to them sat her sheathed wakizashi and her two knives; her shuriken, too big to fit, had been left to lean against the side of her desk.
"And that's worth saying only 'cuz that's the most sense you've, like, ever made. Can't you go back to being creepy and stereotypical? I'm serious."
The arm warmer went on next; she buckled it quickly as she toed into her (still laced) sneakers. Gloves followed swiftly after, and Yuffie mumbled, "C'mon, geez," as she slipped them on. She'd been too distracted by her notes to get dressed during dinner shift, and now she had to hurry. Sagara could be here any minute.
Finally, finally, Yuffie jammed the woollen turtleneck over her head.
She stood by her bed, hopping vaguely as she pulled up her socks. The rest of her clothes, sans shorts and bra, were in a messy, rumpled pile on top of her equally messy, rumpled bedsheets. Next to them sat her sheathed wakizashi and her two knives; her shuriken, too big to fit, had been left to lean against the side of her desk.
"And that's worth saying only 'cuz that's the most sense you've, like, ever made. Can't you go back to being creepy and stereotypical? I'm serious."
The arm warmer went on next; she buckled it quickly as she toed into her (still laced) sneakers. Gloves followed swiftly after, and Yuffie mumbled, "C'mon, geez," as she slipped them on. She'd been too distracted by her notes to get dressed during dinner shift, and now she had to hurry. Sagara could be here any minute.
Finally, finally, Yuffie jammed the woollen turtleneck over her head.