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lovemykiltPriestly whistled softly to himself, still hyped up from laser tag in class, as he put the finishing touches on the sandwiches for rehearsal. Ramone was doing laps -- up the cage, through the air to Priestly's head, down his back or arm, try to steal some cheese, get chased back to the cage. Over all, it was a lovely sort of afternoon.
Well, until Priestly's laptop beeped at him to let him know he had an email. An e-ticket confirmation, for one Mr. Priestly, round trip from BWI to San Jose, where, no doubt, his parents would be waiting to pick him up and take him back to Santa Cruz.
Dammit, he'd forgotten his mom was insisting on him visiting.
The phone rang.
"Hello? Mom. Yeah. Just got it. Thursday. That's, uh, short notice. No, I know we've been talking about -- well, I've got class on Frid -- yes, I'm sure the professor will understa -- okay. Okay. I said okay, Mom. No, you don't have to -- I can take the bus. No it's not. No, it's not. Okay, fine. Yeah, I got the sweater. Not yet. Because it's July. Yeah, even on the East Coast. Okay. Okay. Yeah, I'll -- okay. I'll see you Thursday. Yeah. Love you, too, Mom."
He hung up the phone and thumped his head down onto the desk, narrowly avoiding a pastrami on rye. Now he had a day and a half to wash the dye out of his hair, get the polish off his nails, pick up retainers for his piercings and foundation for his tattoo, and shave.
This sucked.
[ooc: establishy, but the post can most definitely be open.]
Well, until Priestly's laptop beeped at him to let him know he had an email. An e-ticket confirmation, for one Mr. Priestly, round trip from BWI to San Jose, where, no doubt, his parents would be waiting to pick him up and take him back to Santa Cruz.
Dammit, he'd forgotten his mom was insisting on him visiting.
The phone rang.
"Hello? Mom. Yeah. Just got it. Thursday. That's, uh, short notice. No, I know we've been talking about -- well, I've got class on Frid -- yes, I'm sure the professor will understa -- okay. Okay. I said okay, Mom. No, you don't have to -- I can take the bus. No it's not. No, it's not. Okay, fine. Yeah, I got the sweater. Not yet. Because it's July. Yeah, even on the East Coast. Okay. Okay. Yeah, I'll -- okay. I'll see you Thursday. Yeah. Love you, too, Mom."
He hung up the phone and thumped his head down onto the desk, narrowly avoiding a pastrami on rye. Now he had a day and a half to wash the dye out of his hair, get the polish off his nails, pick up retainers for his piercings and foundation for his tattoo, and shave.
This sucked.
[ooc: establishy, but the post can most definitely be open.]