☮ twelve detention slips
[If you're up on the ninth floor this afternoon, you will probably smell something that's just a bit out of place - paint. The door of room 908 is cracked open for ventilation, and if you look inside you'll see a room in disarray. Furniture has all been pushed to the middle, and tarps are laid across the floor. Standing on a stepladder against one wall, a paintbrush in her hand, is Alex, painting what seems to be a mess of grey and blue shapes on her wall.
Every once in awhile, a few drops of paint fall down to the open journal on the floor. Complaints or gratuitous cursing is welcome.]
((ooc: open in person or over journal))
Every once in awhile, a few drops of paint fall down to the open journal on the floor. Complaints or gratuitous cursing is welcome.]
((ooc: open in person or over journal))