After getting back yesterday, Charlie ended up crashing in her room and then sleeping a *lot*. Playing paintball takes it right out of you, then all those workshops
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It was official. Turtle couldn't stand it anymore. She considered going down to the store even though Monday was totally her day off, to do supply tallies and TPS reports to work out her frustration, but she knew she just had to talk to Charlie. TPS reports couldn't banter back and possibly write up therapeutic stories with cleverly disguised characters to work out your aggressions on.
Turtle, in her bad, horrible, only getting worse day, got right to the point and didn't waste any time. If she did, she was afraid something bad would happen and then she'd be even worse than before. "Charlie, Johnny Storm is the biggest jerkwad on the face of this planet! You're not going to believe what he did!"
And then she blinked eyes going up to the ceiling. Where there was a ball. "Oh," her anger faded for a bit. "Cool."
The ball dropped down to eye-level as Turtle ranted, and Charlie looked worried. "What did he do? He's back? When did he get back?" Then she blinked at the ball, and smiled again, just a little. "Isn't it? Bridge loaned it to me. To help me practice."
The floated the ball over to her, and collapsed it down to about volley-ball size, not trusting her control if she was about to be getting upset.
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She went a-knocking loud on her friend's door.
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And then she blinked eyes going up to the ceiling. Where there was a ball. "Oh," her anger faded for a bit. "Cool."
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The floated the ball over to her, and collapsed it down to about volley-ball size, not trusting her control if she was about to be getting upset.
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