twelve ► after all

[gentleidealist]

[dictated]

[The journal picks up the ambient noises of the evening fauna-- soft crickets, a chill breeze, babbling carried by the wind and dying away. Someone's /roof after all that drama.]

Three hundred and four... three hundred and five...

[A sigh.]

Nope, not sleepy yet.

[ooc: open over the journals or in person B) Tags will come later tonight. Hopefully.]

Comments

[gentleidealist]

I'm asking you to shut up.

[He gets up and starts walking toward the roof entrance.]

[wilder]

[he gets up and follows too!]

Man, with chivalry like that it's a wonder you spend Friday night at home a lot.

[gentleidealist]

Is Friday night important or something?

[MISSING THE POINT]

[wilder]

[He snickers a little; oh Lloyd]

Yeah. That's usually a night people go on dates?

[gentleidealist]

[Lloyd really doesn't care about that sort of thing.]

Uh... right.

[Yeah, look at all the fucks he gives. Look at them.]

[wilder]

[he sighs, of course he wouldn't care. Poor Colette is going to be waiting years and years at this rate]

[But he won't push, instead he'll just put his arm up on Lloyd's shoulder because he hasn't invaded his personal space enough this thread]

So what's the meal plan~?