Lots and lots of owls - Betting Pool Results!

[hopalongmcgurk]

((Thanks to woocha for doing the math so I didn't have to, because math is haaaard!))

I finally grab the betting pool box and, prefect results in hand, I spend some time calculating the winners. Afterwords, I struggle to the owlery and send out owls.

Comments

[best_guitarist]

((Laziness works for me! :P ))The owl genuinely surprised Skwisgaar, since it sounded like Oly actually gave a damn about him. She wasn't attached to Dethklok's label, wasn't employed by Dethklok in any way, and so he had a hard time coming up with reasons for her to care. It was just... strange. Some of his bandmates -- guys he'd known and played with for years -- hadn't even been as concerned

[hopalongmcgurk]

"Come in!" I call, b ecause I am, in fact, in residence.

My room is actually fairly spartan. The bed has been removed, replaced by a simple pallet on the floor. A chair, desk and wardrobe complete the look, though the desk is cluttered with various parchments, vials, and other random magical accouterments. I don't invite people over that often, and it's not like I entertain all that many gentleman callers.

I get up as Skwisgaar enters, looking him over for a moment before speaking. "Hi," is what I end up saying. "You still look like shit. How are you feeling?" I genuinely do want to know. He's a nice kid, for certain values of nice, and this actually wasn't a booty call, although I probably wouldn't object too hard if it became one.

[best_guitarist]

What most would consider spartan, Skwisgaar considered quite livable and inviting. His own room was possibly even more utilitarian by comparison, not counting Toki's few personal effects that made it look like someone actually lived there.

"Abouts de same," he replied frankly, seeing no reason to sugarcoat things. He was still sporting two black eyes and livid bruising along his jaw and down his neck, so it wasn't difficult to imagine how he must feel. With limited seating options, he unselfconsciously opted for the floor, drawing his knees up and resting his arms on them. "Toki has a bits of a problem expressings himself," he said, rolling his eyes. "Tries to kills me, den cries abouts it. Very ember-assing fors him."

[hopalongmcgurk]

I sit down next to him on the floor. "Sounds like my childhood," I observe. "Only with less beating each other to a bloody pulp and more just generally making each other miserable." I reach out like I'm going to touch one of the bruises on his cheek, then decide against it. "You want me to send the house elves up here with drinks?" I ask, figuring that'll at least cheer him up a little. I do want to ask about Toki, but I'm not really sure how to do it without coming off like some clingy jealous girl, when that's far from how I actually feel.