Room 234/236: Wednesday afternoon(ish)
Most of yesterday had been taken up with dive-bombing the newbies with soap bubbles from the roof. D'anna, Zero, Isabel, Anders and Peter-who's-a-Parker all stopped by to help, comment, and plot torment of the new students. She'd only managed to *almost* freak out one newbie, Marco, but she had hopes of more later. Tormenting her new Little Brother, Chris Halliwell, was almost too easy by comparison. But maybe he'd take a few of her warnings to heart, in and among the terror?
After getting a phone message from Jack, she stopped by to see how he was after his trip-- and he wasn't as great as he'd been when he left. Now she had a project aside from the usual: track down where she'd put that letter to Jack back in April, so he could have proof that someone *would* have come after him when he disappeared, if there'd been a damn clue where he'd gone.
Last night's phone call with Angel had sent her to the clinic this morning to check on Dr. Wilson. That Greek Tragedy in the making was now officially back in Angel's court. She just hoped she didn't have to pick up the pieces with tweezers. Dr. Wilson was another someone she couldn't do anything for.
Which was part of why she now she had the door open, and music blasting away as she tore apart her filing cabinent. Where, the hell, did she put that letter....?
[ooc: open for visits, phone calls, and brushes with Death. I mean, Parker.]
After getting a phone message from Jack, she stopped by to see how he was after his trip-- and he wasn't as great as he'd been when he left. Now she had a project aside from the usual: track down where she'd put that letter to Jack back in April, so he could have proof that someone *would* have come after him when he disappeared, if there'd been a damn clue where he'd gone.
Last night's phone call with Angel had sent her to the clinic this morning to check on Dr. Wilson. That Greek Tragedy in the making was now officially back in Angel's court. She just hoped she didn't have to pick up the pieces with tweezers. Dr. Wilson was another someone she couldn't do anything for.
Which was part of why she now she had the door open, and music blasting away as she tore apart her filing cabinent. Where, the hell, did she put that letter....?
[ooc: open for visits, phone calls, and brushes with Death. I mean, Parker.]