Oct 13, 2007 21:51
Preston's in the Wasteland, sitting on the stage and strumming his bass absently.
He's in a good mood. There are reasons for this.
. . . they don't have to do with the trial, which is taking its own sweet time about getting organized while the accused sit around in a basement and take up resources, but right now he's not thinking about that so
journey,
solomon,
preston vasquez
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Comments 48
Journey wanders over to the stage.
Journey carefully and with great dignity lies on the stage and closes her eyes to listen to the music, smiling.
Pretty typical Journey.
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"Hey, Journey."
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Preston grins. "Except the guy who said it was in love with the wrong girl, and also kinda emo, and eventually gets sick of it and tells the player to shut up, so if that's where the quote is going . . ."
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Salah has changed in the last few months. He has a small streak of grey in his long hair, which he now wears tied back in a short ponytail, and even a speckle of grey in his beard. Wait, that's new! He has neatly kept beard that is peppered with grey across his upper lip. He grins at Preston, sits on his backward chair, and takes a swig of his NEW beer.
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Preston looks at his lost beer. In mild protest: "You're gonna get beard hair in my drink."
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He beams. "Don't you know? The beard hair of a mature, Persian man is good for your growth!"
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Preston snags his beer back and takes a gulp.
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