today was a good day
WHO: Tommy Shepherd & Billy Kaplan
WHAT: HAPPY FUN TIMES IN THE PARK.
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Sunday Morning, after the Griffin arrives with his happiness CLOUD.
WARNINGS: Adorable Alternate Universe Twin Happy. Possible pigeon injury.
[For some reason, this morning Tommy woke up happy. It's not abnormal, especially since today is his day off, but he just isn't bothered by everything as much as usual--which for him is really saying something. He went for the longest run he'd been on since he'd gotten here, and just thoroughly enjoyed just running. For no reason, not to anyone's house with a stupid delicious pizza. Just for him. It was nice.
He's sitting on a bench, leaning against it's back, watching pigeons with horribly deformed feet pool around him as if they'd mistaken his hair colour for the distinct markers of an old lady with a bag of bread crumbs. He kicks at them idly, watching them flutter up and then pool around his feet again.
He grins. Stupid birds. At least this time he knew he was faster than them.
Tommy's in such a good mood, that he's not even bothered that Billy is late to hang out with him. He's not tapping his foot impatiently, he's not snorting in irritation. But he might be throwing pebbles at the pigeons and smirking to himself when they try and peck the pebbles, expecting it to be bread.]
WHAT: HAPPY FUN TIMES IN THE PARK.
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Sunday Morning, after the Griffin arrives with his happiness CLOUD.
WARNINGS: Adorable Alternate Universe Twin Happy. Possible pigeon injury.
[For some reason, this morning Tommy woke up happy. It's not abnormal, especially since today is his day off, but he just isn't bothered by everything as much as usual--which for him is really saying something. He went for the longest run he'd been on since he'd gotten here, and just thoroughly enjoyed just running. For no reason, not to anyone's house with a stupid delicious pizza. Just for him. It was nice.
He's sitting on a bench, leaning against it's back, watching pigeons with horribly deformed feet pool around him as if they'd mistaken his hair colour for the distinct markers of an old lady with a bag of bread crumbs. He kicks at them idly, watching them flutter up and then pool around his feet again.
He grins. Stupid birds. At least this time he knew he was faster than them.
Tommy's in such a good mood, that he's not even bothered that Billy is late to hang out with him. He's not tapping his foot impatiently, he's not snorting in irritation. But he might be throwing pebbles at the pigeons and smirking to himself when they try and peck the pebbles, expecting it to be bread.]