just play the depressing Beck song from Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind over this log, okay
Who: Patrick, Narvin, & Jason (posting order)
Where: Jason's room
When: ... a ... time they are all free
Warnings: no, this is just discussion of Jason's shitty idea that will determine whether or not he gets to lose his memories.
It was annoying on principle to have people come into his room, even if he more or less trusted Patrick which is to say, he trusted Patrick to act like a basically good person, not that he actually trusted Patrick but there wasn't anything revealing to be found there aside from his taste in books, and it was a low price to pay. Things were neat enough, if only because there weren't anything but books to clutter the place; war fiction and non-fiction dominated, but there was a copy of Fight Club and one of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, too. It was like any anonymous studio apartment to be found in twenty-first century earth, empty of much decoration or evidence of personality.
There were chairs out for Patrick and Narvin, but Jason himself leaned against the desk where his fake notes were, arms loose at his sides. He had no intention of letting either of them read what he'd actually written, especially Patrick, who would pick up on the few inconsistencies he'd deliberately included. It was bad enough that he'd had to explain so much to both of them, and he'd probably have to explain a little more today. But there wasn't a way around that, since Patrick wasn't that laidback, and Narvin seemed scrupulous enough. At least in comparison to fucking Barron.
Where: Jason's room
When: ... a ... time they are all free
Warnings: no, this is just discussion of Jason's shitty idea that will determine whether or not he gets to lose his memories.
It was annoying on principle to have people come into his room, even if he more or less trusted Patrick which is to say, he trusted Patrick to act like a basically good person, not that he actually trusted Patrick but there wasn't anything revealing to be found there aside from his taste in books, and it was a low price to pay. Things were neat enough, if only because there weren't anything but books to clutter the place; war fiction and non-fiction dominated, but there was a copy of Fight Club and one of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, too. It was like any anonymous studio apartment to be found in twenty-first century earth, empty of much decoration or evidence of personality.
There were chairs out for Patrick and Narvin, but Jason himself leaned against the desk where his fake notes were, arms loose at his sides. He had no intention of letting either of them read what he'd actually written, especially Patrick, who would pick up on the few inconsistencies he'd deliberately included. It was bad enough that he'd had to explain so much to both of them, and he'd probably have to explain a little more today. But there wasn't a way around that, since Patrick wasn't that laidback, and Narvin seemed scrupulous enough. At least in comparison to fucking Barron.