Room 528, Friday Evening
Emma was in a mood.
She'd skipped the undignified chaos of the newbie picnic in order to sulk get some quiet time in her room, and the raw noise this time of year left her in perpetual headache. She'd managed to make it through class today, although barely, and her temper was starting to fray again at whomever in the building had thoughts nattering away like some demented parakeet.
But the volume of the dorms, coupled with the residual crankiness she had left over from the rest of the week and situations not to be recognized, had sent her back to her room to scowl and pick over her closet, tossing last season's things in a pile to drop off at the Salvation Army or something. She had money now, dammit, she was going to spend it.
And despite promising herself that she wasn't going to do anything that sappy or petty, she was occasionally sending text messages over her phone.
bored now.
No answer.
am now trying long distance telepathy. do you have a compulsion to pet a duck yet?
She wasn't going to wait for an answer, really. Her ex...whatever...was just going to have to suffer her texting whims today.
tell me when your homework starts quacking.
be very very quiet. it's talking to you.
booooooooored.
The door was open, but Emma would be alternately bemused or pissy, depending on if that person had shut up yet. God.
[OOC: Open door, open post, fear the Fun Dip.]
She'd skipped the undignified chaos of the newbie picnic in order to sulk get some quiet time in her room, and the raw noise this time of year left her in perpetual headache. She'd managed to make it through class today, although barely, and her temper was starting to fray again at whomever in the building had thoughts nattering away like some demented parakeet.
But the volume of the dorms, coupled with the residual crankiness she had left over from the rest of the week and situations not to be recognized, had sent her back to her room to scowl and pick over her closet, tossing last season's things in a pile to drop off at the Salvation Army or something. She had money now, dammit, she was going to spend it.
And despite promising herself that she wasn't going to do anything that sappy or petty, she was occasionally sending text messages over her phone.
bored now.
No answer.
am now trying long distance telepathy. do you have a compulsion to pet a duck yet?
She wasn't going to wait for an answer, really. Her ex...whatever...was just going to have to suffer her texting whims today.
tell me when your homework starts quacking.
be very very quiet. it's talking to you.
booooooooored.
The door was open, but Emma would be alternately bemused or pissy, depending on if that person had shut up yet. God.
[OOC: Open door, open post, fear the Fun Dip.]