nookiepowered: (surprised (OMFG))
Saturday's weirdness? It hadn't exactly gone away, but it had died down a bit when Bo hermited herself up in her own place for a few days. Enough that she could talk sanely to insane people and while the delivery guy from Pizza Planet stumbled away muttering about the best tip ever, he was still conscious and vertical at the time, so it counted as a win.

So... maybe it was safe to try venturing out? She had to come into work sometime, after all, and things were still kind of...warm, but not out of control when she stepped out the door into the street.

One walk to school through the oh, so fresh air and twelve sneezes later, she'd found out the answer to that the hard way.

Which was why it was Bo who stumbled now -- out of the janitor's closet.

From behind her came the shuffle-scrape-THUD of someone doing the first three steps of a soft-shoe before giving up and collapsing to the floor with a faint but not unhappy groan.

"Don't you judge me. Don't you DARE judge me!" she stammered defensively to... an empty hallway.

Right. Okay. She'd get to her office eventually, but right now she'd just stay here and hold up this wall for a minute or an hour or two. Until she figured out why, even buzzing with energy as she was now, Bo was still hungry.

--
[OOC: Highly likely to be some flavor of NWS. Expecting two, but open to random encounters of the polleny variety! Though for the sake of not juggling logistics, let's OOCly limit the unexpected to people it's safe to have random polleny encounters with.]
nookiepowered: (action (reading - smile))
This week's postcard was from Barbados, actually, not Morocco. It still put a much-needed smile on Bo's face as she relaxed in front of the tv with a Guinness in honor of other absent friends.

[OOC: for the tricksy tiny one. No, not him. The other tricksy tiny one. The one she's actually met.]
nookiepowered: (action (reading - smile))
This week's postcard was from Barbados, actually, not Morocco. It still put a much-needed smile on Bo's face as she relaxed in front of the tv with a Guinness in honor of other absent friends.

[OOC: for the tricksy tiny one. No, not him. The other tricksy tiny one. The one she's actually met.]
nookiepowered: (action (smoking))
"Deb" (whose name was by no means Deb, and thank God she remembered that now, because sgajdhgakjdh what a freaking stupid name) leaned back against the brick wall and took a long, slow drag on her cigarette. One of her last three cigarettes. The one spluttering street lamp cast dull, intermittent reflections in the leather jacket that she wrapped closely around her against the cooling night.

Don't ask where she got a leather jacket; when someone from Costume hands you something, you wear it. Even over a flight-attendant uniform.

Three cigarettes. Well, two and a half now. What was she going to do when they ran out? What? Would her memories of who she truly was disappear back into the withdrawal-crazed cover-story that was "Deb" or was that recovery a permanent one?

What was the cargo on that flight, and had it been destroyed along with most of the passengers, or was it even now in the hands of the Skywalkers or the Starks, either of which could spell certain doom for the world if they realized what they held? ...Not that she remembered what it was.

Sigh. Two and a quarter cigarettes left.

[OOC: for one who ...possibly knows who he is? Probably. This weekend, who can tell?]
nookiepowered: (action (smoking))
"Deb" (whose name was by no means Deb, and thank God she remembered that now, because sgajdhgakjdh what a freaking stupid name) leaned back against the brick wall and took a long, slow drag on her cigarette. One of her last three cigarettes. The one spluttering street lamp cast dull, intermittent reflections in the leather jacket that she wrapped closely around her against the cooling night.

Don't ask where she got a leather jacket; when someone from Costume hands you something, you wear it. Even over a flight-attendant uniform.

Three cigarettes. Well, two and a half now. What was she going to do when they ran out? What? Would her memories of who she truly was disappear back into the withdrawal-crazed cover-story that was "Deb" or was that recovery a permanent one?

What was the cargo on that flight, and had it been destroyed along with most of the passengers, or was it even now in the hands of the Skywalkers or the Starks, either of which could spell certain doom for the world if they realized what they held? ...Not that she remembered what it was.

Sigh. Two and a quarter cigarettes left.

[OOC: for one who ...possibly knows who he is? Probably. This weekend, who can tell?]

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Bo Jones. Or maybe Dennis.

December 2015

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