Sam LaCroix (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
necroslacker) wrote2011-08-17 07:19 pm
necroslacker) wrote2011-08-17 07:19 pm
Entry tags:
room 216 ; wednesday evening
Sam's summer classes were over. After everything earlier in the week, he was pretty damn grateful for that. He didn't want to go sit in classes and listen to teachers drone on and one about something or other that he'd never use in the future.
He hadn't seen Ashley since Monday and Brooke had also been conspicuously absent. Either they were both avoiding him or...they were avoiding him, yeah. He didn't even know why because he wasn't angry. He didn't know what he was. Before he'd left Seattle, he'd crashed at the massive house he'd inherited and spent some time with Ramon and Frank. He hadn't told them what happened. He hadn't wanted to talk about it. It already sucked that he was gonna have to go back to Seattle for a Council meeting on Ashley's findings.
For now, Sam was doing a lot of nothing. He'd pulled his record player out from under his bed and was spinning some vinyl as he usually did. There was an open pizza box on his desk with a few slices gone and Sam himself was sitting on the floor, back against the edge of his bed, and skateboard flipped upside down so he could clean the truck and check the wheels.
There were stark white bandages peeking out from underneath his hoodie, the only physical remnants of his necromancy. It'd stopped throbbing, at least. Hey, at least it wasn't a skateboard injury this time?
[Door is half closed but the post is all the way open]
He hadn't seen Ashley since Monday and Brooke had also been conspicuously absent. Either they were both avoiding him or...they were avoiding him, yeah. He didn't even know why because he wasn't angry. He didn't know what he was. Before he'd left Seattle, he'd crashed at the massive house he'd inherited and spent some time with Ramon and Frank. He hadn't told them what happened. He hadn't wanted to talk about it. It already sucked that he was gonna have to go back to Seattle for a Council meeting on Ashley's findings.
For now, Sam was doing a lot of nothing. He'd pulled his record player out from under his bed and was spinning some vinyl as he usually did. There was an open pizza box on his desk with a few slices gone and Sam himself was sitting on the floor, back against the edge of his bed, and skateboard flipped upside down so he could clean the truck and check the wheels.
There were stark white bandages peeking out from underneath his hoodie, the only physical remnants of his necromancy. It'd stopped throbbing, at least. Hey, at least it wasn't a skateboard injury this time?
[Door is half closed but the post is all the way open]