If looks could cure.
"That's... me," Coop mouthed quietly, staring up at the giant image of himself plastered just outside the compound.
He'd just gotten back to the compound, bundled up from head-to-toe in snow gear and holding tightly to the pair of skis he'd borrowed from the closet earlier that afternoon. It had been a mostly successful day out on stupidly steep slopes, he thought, in that he hadn't pulled a Sonny or a Michael and was still alive to not tell the tale of exactly how many times he'd fallen on his ass.
"That's me!" He exclaimed this time, raising a gloved hand in order to point up at the poster. "If looks could cure. Dr. Fitch Cooper. Rated one of New York's twenty-five top docs." He was beaming, grin stretching from ear to ear. First New York Magazine and then this? He was practically a celebrity back home now... Too bad he was still stuck on I'm-still-a-nobody-here Island.
With that thought, Coop deflated a little as he finally headed inside, but he quickly perked up again at the sight of another poster. And another. Three in total by the time he hit the rec room, and one more on the door of the closet he pulled open in order to replace the skis. That was as far as the glowing pride went, though.
The skis were tossed haphazardly into the closet to fall where they would, and out of the closet Coop pulled a not-quite-life-sized cardboard cutout of himself. Finding something like that might have been just as cool as the posters had been, if it wasn't for the fact that someone had obviously found it before him. And defaced it.
Judging by what was written on it, Coop was positive that he knew exactly who the person responsible for it was.
[the Coop campaign posters come in a bunch of sizes and can be found by your pup absolutely anywhere/everywhere before/after/during the thread and are free to deface at will. there is only one cutout, though. and yes, it says 'I grab boobs' on it. st/lt are a-okay]
He'd just gotten back to the compound, bundled up from head-to-toe in snow gear and holding tightly to the pair of skis he'd borrowed from the closet earlier that afternoon. It had been a mostly successful day out on stupidly steep slopes, he thought, in that he hadn't pulled a Sonny or a Michael and was still alive to not tell the tale of exactly how many times he'd fallen on his ass.
"That's me!" He exclaimed this time, raising a gloved hand in order to point up at the poster. "If looks could cure. Dr. Fitch Cooper. Rated one of New York's twenty-five top docs." He was beaming, grin stretching from ear to ear. First New York Magazine and then this? He was practically a celebrity back home now... Too bad he was still stuck on I'm-still-a-nobody-here Island.
With that thought, Coop deflated a little as he finally headed inside, but he quickly perked up again at the sight of another poster. And another. Three in total by the time he hit the rec room, and one more on the door of the closet he pulled open in order to replace the skis. That was as far as the glowing pride went, though.
The skis were tossed haphazardly into the closet to fall where they would, and out of the closet Coop pulled a not-quite-life-sized cardboard cutout of himself. Finding something like that might have been just as cool as the posters had been, if it wasn't for the fact that someone had obviously found it before him. And defaced it.
Judging by what was written on it, Coop was positive that he knew exactly who the person responsible for it was.
[the Coop campaign posters come in a bunch of sizes and can be found by your pup absolutely anywhere/everywhere before/after/during the thread and are free to deface at will. there is only one cutout, though. and yes, it says 'I grab boobs' on it. st/lt are a-okay]