The roof: Sunday evening
This particular Sunday, the roof was not a roof of emo. At least not so far. It was, if you had to assign it an emotion, a roof of tired smugness.
This would be because Jack was sitting on the edge, dangling his legs over, eating pizza and watching the sun set, feeling both tired and smug. It had been a very long week, but it had had an extremely satisfactory conclusion.
As long as no one killed him for messing with their stuff (and he was seriously considering denying all knowledge and memory of those incidents from here on out) he was going to call it a success.
[It's a roof -- unless a mad team of dimension-hopping builders suddenly appear in a blinding flash of light and erect a gazebo or something, it's going to keep being open! So, yes, of course, open, and Jack will happily share his pizza. I go AFK for a bit, but I'll be back.]
This would be because Jack was sitting on the edge, dangling his legs over, eating pizza and watching the sun set, feeling both tired and smug. It had been a very long week, but it had had an extremely satisfactory conclusion.
As long as no one killed him for messing with their stuff (and he was seriously considering denying all knowledge and memory of those incidents from here on out) he was going to call it a success.
[It's a roof -- unless a mad team of dimension-hopping builders suddenly appear in a blinding flash of light and erect a gazebo or something, it's going to keep being open! So, yes, of course, open, and Jack will happily share his pizza. I go AFK for a bit, but I'll be back.]