Jeff sauntered into the study room. So what if he was 10 minutes late? A very pretty (and very buxom) woman was trying to sell him facial cleanser imported from Norway; it wouldn’t be very chivalrous of him to just ignore her for the sakes of these misfits. And it wasn’t like being on time would let him into Britta’s pants (a cause that was slowly losing its flavor,) and one “Milady” and Annie’s look of disapproval would melt into one of adoration.
“Oh, Jeffrey!” Shirley cooed, the first to break away from the buzzing of chatter. “I made brownies!” she gestured toward a plate that probably once held a small tower of her delicious (if highly caloric, Jeff guessed) brownies, but now only had about five or six.
“Hey, Jeff!” Troy grinned, before returning to his conversation with Abed.
“Winger,” Britta said.
“Butt-brain,” Pierce said, mimicking Britta’s tone. His face was messy, sporting a goatee of chocolate. It was no secret where those brownies went. He gave a loud burp, which earned him a look of disgust from Shirley.
“Hey,” Jeff said, as he sat down into his chair. Wait, where was Annie? Annie was never late to study group; she was always punctual. He was pretty sure she had ‘punctual’ carved on her bones. He was about to voice his concern when Annie came in and took her seat.
“Hey guys,” she smiled. The smile did not reach her eyes.
“Are you okay, pumpkin?”
For a moment, Annie’s eyes grew wide, and her breath caught in her throat, as if she was willing herself not to give away anything. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Shirley,” she reassured her friend and the others. She sighed and twisted her lips into a smile as she opened up her book, “I think we left off on page 210; yes, Troy, it’s the one with the salsa dancing Chihuahuas on it.”
~*~
Jeff sauntered into the study room. So what if he was 10 minutes late? A very pretty (and very buxom) woman was trying to sell him facial cleanser imported from Norway; it wouldn’t be very chivalrous of him to just ignore her for the sakes of these misfits. And it wasn’t like being on time would let him into Britta’s pants (a cause that was slowly losing its flavor,) and one “Milady” and Annie’s look of disapproval would melt into one of adoration.
“Oh, Jeffrey!” Shirley cooed, the first to break away from the buzzing of chatter. “I made brownies!” she gestured toward a plate that probably once held a small tower of her delicious (if highly caloric, Jeff guessed) brownies, but now only had about five or six.
“Hey, Jeff!” Troy grinned, before returning to his conversation with Abed.
“Winger,” Britta said.
“Butt-brain,” Pierce said, mimicking Britta’s tone. His face was messy, sporting a goatee of chocolate. It was no secret where those brownies went. He gave a loud burp, which earned him a look of disgust from Shirley.
“Hey,” Jeff said, as he sat down into his chair. Wait, where was Annie? Annie was never late to study group; she was always punctual. He was pretty sure she had ‘punctual’ carved on her bones. He was about to voice his concern when Annie came in and took her seat.
“Hey guys,” she smiled. The smile did not reach her eyes.
“Are you okay, pumpkin?”
For a moment, Annie’s eyes grew wide, and her breath caught in her throat, as if she was willing herself not to give away anything. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Shirley,” she reassured her friend and the others. She sighed and twisted her lips into a smile as she opened up her book, “I think we left off on page 210; yes, Troy, it’s the one with the salsa dancing Chihuahuas on it.”
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