(no subject)
Ryan is pointedly ignoring the fact that it's almost Christmas. In fact, he's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, rather than anything winter-suitable. Granted, he's wrapped up in a blanket, but it's the intent that counts, right? He's also pretending not to notice the decorations that have appeared draped over couches and through the legs of various chairs and tables. And don't even get him started on the Christmas trees.
Content in his Scroogery, Ryan is sitting in the corner of his couch, reading what appears the be the latest volume of Guinness Book of World Records with a half fascinated, half disgusted expression. There's a strand of Christmas lights crumpled unceremoniously by his feet, and he's busily eating what used to be a popcorn string.
"What would you do t'be famous?" he asks, making a face as he looks at a picture of a girl who broke the world record for largest number of snails on a face.
Content in his Scroogery, Ryan is sitting in the corner of his couch, reading what appears the be the latest volume of Guinness Book of World Records with a half fascinated, half disgusted expression. There's a strand of Christmas lights crumpled unceremoniously by his feet, and he's busily eating what used to be a popcorn string.
"What would you do t'be famous?" he asks, making a face as he looks at a picture of a girl who broke the world record for largest number of snails on a face.