[237 Monday Evening]
After Spying and Cheerleading, D'anna came back to her room to find flowers and a package waiting for her.
The roses were lovely. She had:A yellow and a pink rose with a note that says Happy Valentine's Day! ~ Love, Annette
A yellow rose with a note that signed JGjr
A yellow rose with a note that says May you have a very Seahorsey Valentine's Day! Sincerely, Sam Winchester
She would have to send Annette, Sam and Jake thank you notes. In the meantime, she would boogle at Jake sending her a flower and wonder if he hadn't perhaps made a mistake.
She put the flowers in a vase and took the package over to the computer because the note on top of it told her to check her email.
She found an email from Ben waiting for her. To: D
From Ben
Subject: RE: I Might Still Hate It Here, but At Least It's Interesting
Date: 2/14/07 - 3:57 PM LSTDear My Spatial Sense is Tingling Babe,
Well, obviously, you would never judge. This is me, snorting and looking amused. Perhaps I should practice more in the mirror. Babe, it's a good thing my ego is so large. It might be crushed. I've got my hand over my heart, here, wounded. Luckily, I'm not drowning.
Except possibly in pointless copying, thanks to my boss.
Snow is pointless, although if you try to do something like make snow angels, I expect them to turn into snow devils.
Yes, I've been seeing Sharon. She's a nice kid, and misses you all terribly, apparently. But she's useful for buying coffee and talking my ear off about flying--why, I'll never know. If God had intended us to fly, we'd have come with wings.
The cheese always believes in me, though my digestive tract objects.
You slapped a stranger for looking like me? Ah, dearest, the heart grows fonder with your absence.
Whatever WOULD you do without me and my fabulousness? You'd wither and pine for your fags and booze. Uncle Simon would be pleased, though.
Please find enclosed, yet another carton of fags--if you haven't smoked your way through the last one, for shame. You're behind me. And I'm not a chimney, I'm merely elegant and dignified with one dangling off my fingers. You could share them, however. So, yes, one carton of fags, a packet of Caprica Chocolates, three pairs of socks--my mother suggested those. Have you run out, over there?--and a copy of my first printed article.
Don't mock me because I'm published. Mock me because it's awful.
Speaking of, though, whatever's up with your email program? Your last message arrived with a date from three years ago, and half the text in binary--I had to translate with a program on my editor's computer. Did you know he has a surprisingly large--and tasteful--porn stash there? I'll have to send you some, next time.
Signing off, to go out for lunch with Sharon,
-- King of the Pigeons (I'm thinking of starting a band. How does "Hot Grass on Fire" sound?)
To:Ben
From D
Subject: I Don't Hate It Here Anymore
Date: 2/14/07 - 5:49 PM FSTDear Flaming Grass,
What exactly was I not judging you on? And mirrors never you do you justice, darling, for they can never show how impressive your mind is. There, have I restored your deflated ego and patched your wounded dramatic sensibilities?
I can't believe Dad's still got you working in that part of the office. Seems like he and Mom are never home these days. I made a quick shopping visit back over the hols but I couldn't even track you down.
Snow devils? And I'm the judgemental one?
Seeing Sharon in what way, exactly? No, I'm not jealous. Except for that part where I'm whiny and envious. Which has nothing to do with you seeing her and everything to do with me not seeing anyone at the moment. Not exactly. I mean, I've had a hook up or two, made out with a few people, and even had a really nice date a week or so ago, but...
I'm sorry for the long distance whining, it's just... there's this stupid holiday today all about love and stuff and on this stupid frakking planet a zillion miles from home, I'm frakking single. So today? Special Tartarus.
Perhaps you ought to find something other than cheese to believe in. Have you tried sardines?
Yes, I slapped him. We'd been talk for a bit, there was hugging involved and the whole time he didn't identify himself as not you. Not that I asked. Turns out he's dating my friend Molly.
I have no idea what I would do without you darling. Possibly go "be emo" at someone here but that's so cliche. And yes, I would pine for cigs and alcohol. Uncle Simon has a stick up his ass.
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! Ben, you are the brightest star in the heavens of Leonis! And thank your mother (though I can't say I've ever run out of socks). I was on my last cig, and the chocolates are more fitting for today than you know! (How you timed the arrival of the package so well to your email, I'll never know.)
Can I mock you just because its fun? Also, I have pinned your article up on my wall right between my 'Seawhorse Forever!' poster and the picture of Mom and Dad taken by the staff at the Colonial Day party two years ago.
I'm not surprised at anything on Marc's computer. Simply because everything he does is unexpected. Best to keep an open mind. And what the frak are you on about? It's your emails that are funky, not mine love.
-- Queen of Yellow. Handmaid of Red. (Have you been sending too much time staring at the sun again?)
[OOC: As always, the emails between D and Ben were co-written with the fabulous notavegetarian. Praise be to her!]
The roses were lovely. She had:A yellow and a pink rose with a note that says Happy Valentine's Day! ~ Love, Annette
A yellow rose with a note that signed JGjr
A yellow rose with a note that says May you have a very Seahorsey Valentine's Day! Sincerely, Sam Winchester
She would have to send Annette, Sam and Jake thank you notes. In the meantime, she would boogle at Jake sending her a flower and wonder if he hadn't perhaps made a mistake.
She put the flowers in a vase and took the package over to the computer because the note on top of it told her to check her email.
She found an email from Ben waiting for her. To: D
From Ben
Subject: RE: I Might Still Hate It Here, but At Least It's Interesting
Date: 2/14/07 - 3:57 PM LSTDear My Spatial Sense is Tingling Babe,
Well, obviously, you would never judge. This is me, snorting and looking amused. Perhaps I should practice more in the mirror. Babe, it's a good thing my ego is so large. It might be crushed. I've got my hand over my heart, here, wounded. Luckily, I'm not drowning.
Except possibly in pointless copying, thanks to my boss.
Snow is pointless, although if you try to do something like make snow angels, I expect them to turn into snow devils.
Yes, I've been seeing Sharon. She's a nice kid, and misses you all terribly, apparently. But she's useful for buying coffee and talking my ear off about flying--why, I'll never know. If God had intended us to fly, we'd have come with wings.
The cheese always believes in me, though my digestive tract objects.
You slapped a stranger for looking like me? Ah, dearest, the heart grows fonder with your absence.
Whatever WOULD you do without me and my fabulousness? You'd wither and pine for your fags and booze. Uncle Simon would be pleased, though.
Please find enclosed, yet another carton of fags--if you haven't smoked your way through the last one, for shame. You're behind me. And I'm not a chimney, I'm merely elegant and dignified with one dangling off my fingers. You could share them, however. So, yes, one carton of fags, a packet of Caprica Chocolates, three pairs of socks--my mother suggested those. Have you run out, over there?--and a copy of my first printed article.
Don't mock me because I'm published. Mock me because it's awful.
Speaking of, though, whatever's up with your email program? Your last message arrived with a date from three years ago, and half the text in binary--I had to translate with a program on my editor's computer. Did you know he has a surprisingly large--and tasteful--porn stash there? I'll have to send you some, next time.
Signing off, to go out for lunch with Sharon,
-- King of the Pigeons (I'm thinking of starting a band. How does "Hot Grass on Fire" sound?)
To:Ben
From D
Subject: I Don't Hate It Here Anymore
Date: 2/14/07 - 5:49 PM FSTDear Flaming Grass,
What exactly was I not judging you on? And mirrors never you do you justice, darling, for they can never show how impressive your mind is. There, have I restored your deflated ego and patched your wounded dramatic sensibilities?
I can't believe Dad's still got you working in that part of the office. Seems like he and Mom are never home these days. I made a quick shopping visit back over the hols but I couldn't even track you down.
Snow devils? And I'm the judgemental one?
Seeing Sharon in what way, exactly? No, I'm not jealous. Except for that part where I'm whiny and envious. Which has nothing to do with you seeing her and everything to do with me not seeing anyone at the moment. Not exactly. I mean, I've had a hook up or two, made out with a few people, and even had a really nice date a week or so ago, but...
I'm sorry for the long distance whining, it's just... there's this stupid holiday today all about love and stuff and on this stupid frakking planet a zillion miles from home, I'm frakking single. So today? Special Tartarus.
Perhaps you ought to find something other than cheese to believe in. Have you tried sardines?
Yes, I slapped him. We'd been talk for a bit, there was hugging involved and the whole time he didn't identify himself as not you. Not that I asked. Turns out he's dating my friend Molly.
I have no idea what I would do without you darling. Possibly go "be emo" at someone here but that's so cliche. And yes, I would pine for cigs and alcohol. Uncle Simon has a stick up his ass.
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! Ben, you are the brightest star in the heavens of Leonis! And thank your mother (though I can't say I've ever run out of socks). I was on my last cig, and the chocolates are more fitting for today than you know! (How you timed the arrival of the package so well to your email, I'll never know.)
Can I mock you just because its fun? Also, I have pinned your article up on my wall right between my 'Seawhorse Forever!' poster and the picture of Mom and Dad taken by the staff at the Colonial Day party two years ago.
I'm not surprised at anything on Marc's computer. Simply because everything he does is unexpected. Best to keep an open mind. And what the frak are you on about? It's your emails that are funky, not mine love.
-- Queen of Yellow. Handmaid of Red. (Have you been sending too much time staring at the sun again?)
[OOC: As always, the emails between D and Ben were co-written with the fabulous notavegetarian. Praise be to her!]