Shooting Range, Friday Morning
It wasn't that Romeo had spent the time since Monday and its goodbyes sulking, exactly. He had sulked, but there had been research to do on business schools in Tokyo, and papers to fill out, and innumerable emails and phone calls with his father to hammer out his plans; when he finally found a school that was willing to consider taking him at this late date, he almost felt happy enough to overcome his sulk.
The forms had been mailed off Thursday, with a donation attached in addition to the usual fees to make up for the university's trouble. All Romeo could still do was hope they'd find their way to the right desk.
On Friday, he arose early and decided to spend part of the time he had entirely too much of at the shooting range. Wearing safety equipment on for once, he rhythmically shot off rounds into a target.
Maybe he'd try it left-handed.
[OOC: Open range, yep.]
The forms had been mailed off Thursday, with a donation attached in addition to the usual fees to make up for the university's trouble. All Romeo could still do was hope they'd find their way to the right desk.
On Friday, he arose early and decided to spend part of the time he had entirely too much of at the shooting range. Wearing safety equipment on for once, he rhythmically shot off rounds into a target.
Maybe he'd try it left-handed.
[OOC: Open range, yep.]