Second Floor Common Room, Early Saturday Morning
Valentine had been a chicken the other day in class. Really, that didn't bother him terribly.
He had lost his pants to his roomie's door. That was mildly disturbing, but he had done well enough wearing a bedsheet the past few days, so he would get over it.
He had a bruise forming on his shin from a well-delivered kick from what he had figured to be a panty-raid victim seeking vengeance. Again, disturbing, but he'd cope.
Sadly, what bothered Valentine the most about the past couple of days was that he had glued his hands together in Science! class in a fit of sheer brilliance. This had hindered his ability to do a great deal of things; to juggle, to prepare food, to flip mindlessly through the channels on the common room television.
The issue of the moment was that he was unable to open his dorm room door, and had been unable to do so since Thursday.
So, tonight, rather than going door to door and asking for assistance, Valentine had swallowed his pride, flicked on the television with his toe, and had fallen asleep on the couch with reruns of Criminal Forensic Detectives blaring in the background and with his hands still firmly clasped together.
Not his wisest decision, but it beat trying to plead for his roomie to let him in.
[ooc: Wake him up, draw on his face, laugh at the bedsheet- go nuts. He's practically asking for it anyhow. I appear to have run to bed! You're going to have to wait for me to wake up again if you want interaction now, mwaha.]
He had lost his pants to his roomie's door. That was mildly disturbing, but he had done well enough wearing a bedsheet the past few days, so he would get over it.
He had a bruise forming on his shin from a well-delivered kick from what he had figured to be a panty-raid victim seeking vengeance. Again, disturbing, but he'd cope.
Sadly, what bothered Valentine the most about the past couple of days was that he had glued his hands together in Science! class in a fit of sheer brilliance. This had hindered his ability to do a great deal of things; to juggle, to prepare food, to flip mindlessly through the channels on the common room television.
The issue of the moment was that he was unable to open his dorm room door, and had been unable to do so since Thursday.
So, tonight, rather than going door to door and asking for assistance, Valentine had swallowed his pride, flicked on the television with his toe, and had fallen asleep on the couch with reruns of Criminal Forensic Detectives blaring in the background and with his hands still firmly clasped together.
Not his wisest decision, but it beat trying to plead for his roomie to let him in.
[ooc: Wake him up, draw on his face, laugh at the bedsheet- go nuts. He's practically asking for it anyhow. I appear to have run to bed! You're going to have to wait for me to wake up again if you want interaction now, mwaha.]