MCA#0, Sunday evening
After a week full of encounters, some of them less awkward than others and at least one a lot less expected than others, Xander was alone.
More specifically, he was sitting alone at the small table in his kitchen, with a beer and a box.
The tv out in the den was playing something old enough to have a laugh track and familiar enough that he wasn't really listening to it. He'd just left it on for the noise.
You'd think he'd be out there watching, since it wasn't like he was doing anything else productive, like going through the box. He was just sitting there in the kitchen, slowly sipping his beer and flipping through the first thing he'd found packed at the top of the box: a photo album.
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[OOC: for a certain returning wayfarer, yis]
More specifically, he was sitting alone at the small table in his kitchen, with a beer and a box.
The tv out in the den was playing something old enough to have a laugh track and familiar enough that he wasn't really listening to it. He'd just left it on for the noise.
You'd think he'd be out there watching, since it wasn't like he was doing anything else productive, like going through the box. He was just sitting there in the kitchen, slowly sipping his beer and flipping through the first thing he'd found packed at the top of the box: a photo album.
__
[OOC: for a certain returning wayfarer, yis]