(no subject)
[it's somewhere near evening, and in the far ends of the East Wing an Allen has occupied a corner of a small, quiet library. he's seated at a table with about a dozen different books spread out around him-- all of which seem to be designed for younger children, things like basic ABC books and very simple guide to learning sentence structure. the only thing on the table that doesn't seem to be about these things, in fact, would be the notebook opened on the table, with two half-full pages of sloppy handwriting. clearly there's a reason he picked such an out-of-the-way place to do whatever it is he's doing.
it may also be worth noting that the usual jacket this Allen wears has been tossed onto a nearby chair, for once, and he's managed to find himself an eye-gougingly bright-orange button down shirt to wear. and his hair? yeah. it's on the pink/purple side of things. he matches so well, doesn't he?]
it may also be worth noting that the usual jacket this Allen wears has been tossed onto a nearby chair, for once, and he's managed to find himself an eye-gougingly bright-orange button down shirt to wear. and his hair? yeah. it's on the pink/purple side of things. he matches so well, doesn't he?]