Waking Up-Ish
Jonothon Starsmore furnaceface
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Room 408, Monday Afternoon
Thursday had been... bad. Bad was the only word that Jonothon could possibly use, because if he tried to make better words to fit what Thursday was, he'd be just inventing them as he went and adding letters for the rest of his life. He missed her. He would always miss her. And he hadn't even had it in him to open his eyes and face her as she walked out of his life.

Friday had been... numb. Jonothon had spent Friday unable to think, drowning in himself in spite of the fact that he didn't need to breathe. But at least it hadn't been numb and alone. He wouldn't have made it through Friday if it had been both, and he'd tell Raven so, eventually, and thank her again for finding him.

Saturday had been... tiring. He had a new roommate to replace Jak, and she wasn't so bad, really. And there had been people at the picnic, even if he didn't think he was up to seeing anybody at all, and they demonstrated one by one that he wasn't alone. Hell, Ben had even come over to watch bloody stupid films that night. There had been popcorn. For throwing, not for eating.

Sunday had just been overwhelming. He'd decided that he wasn't going to have any of that moping thing that he kept giving into, and he was going to go to the library and he was going to bloody well work, and if he smothered himself in it, then he didn't have to think about anything else. And it had been off to a good start. He'd helped Faramir and Dolf both. But then Sherlock bloody Holmes showed up as well, and had ruined his state of mind for dealing with Murdoch, and Mr. DeTamble had wound up sending him home early. Which had led to drinking with Karla and George and a shared psionic sense of tipsiness that, as enjoyable as it was while they were reading The Three Musketeers last night, had sometime since given way to a psionic hangover.

And so Monday? Monday was going to be spent under the covers, cursing sunlight and detectives and swashbuckling and beer. To hell with everything in the entire bloody world. Jonothon didn't have to be up until tomorrow, anyhow.

[But, of course, the post is open for anyone who wants to stop by to poke the mutant, closed door be damned.]


2010-08-30 09:45 pm (UTC) (Link)

George had been out wandering, trying to figure out the lay of this place. And maybe avoiding people. So?

When she came back into the room, the other bed had a lump in it, that did not appear to be moving.

Maybe he was hungover. There had been drinking last night. Not all that much, but then, reaper metabolism made it hard to judge everyone else's tolerance level.

She sprawled out on her bed, relieved that the past few days hadn't involved any Post-It notes, and started writing letters to people she wasn't actually allowed to mail letters to. Like her mother. She'd burn them later.

Sheer curiosity made her ask, hesitantly, "Sleeping, hungover, or wallowing?"

In a low enough voice that hopefully it wouldn't wake him up, if it had been Door #1.


2010-08-30 09:50 pm (UTC) (Link)

There were words. Ouch, bloody words. Words from-- George. Her name was George, and she lived here now, and while she wasn't Jak, she didn't really strike Jono as a bad sort. Maybe less likely to throw him out of fourth floor windows...


Nevermind that she'd given him three options. He was resigned to his lumpiness, and Jono's answer could be 'both' if he sodding well wanted it to be.


2010-08-30 09:54 pm (UTC) (Link)

'Both' meant that he wasn't asleep, at least. Good enough.

"You need anything?" she asked. She didn't keep aspirin on hand -- didn't usually need it herself -- and she doubted he could take it, anyway, what with not having a mouth.


2010-08-30 09:58 pm (UTC) (Link)

//Need?// The lump in Jonothon's bed shifted a little, and the next thing that was projected off of him wasn't so much words as it was a general feeling of bloody fucking hell.

You're welcome for that unique psionic experience, George.

//I could probably write a list.//


2010-08-30 10:07 pm (UTC) (Link)

Fabulous. Just what she wanted to deal with, today.

"Okay, pretend I made it clear I was talking about shit I can actually get you," George said, "and give me an answer to that."


2010-08-30 10:12 pm (UTC) (Link)

//Well, that's where things get tricky,// Jonothon replied. And now he was going to sit up. Ish. Sit-up-ish. With his hands to his eyes to keep out that pesky daylight.

Whoever invented daylight should be drug out into the street...

//No, I suppose there isn't anything, then.//

And a wince while he put his hands down to his sides again, and just sat there. Ow, his head.


2010-08-30 10:31 pm (UTC) (Link)

"Hangover should clear up quickly," she said, although to be honest, she'd never had one to know the difference, "and wallowing doesn't ever help."

There. Advice from George Lass. That plus a quarter could get him a .... no, phone calls were more than a quarter now. Disregard.


2010-08-30 10:40 pm (UTC) (Link)

Anyhow, a phone call wouldn't do him much good.

//No, I suppose it doesn't, does it.// Jonothon didn't look terribly convinced, really. Or that could just be because he always furrowed his eyebrows when he woke up in the... afternoon... and started to pat down his bandages to make certain flames weren't getting out. //And yet it's so easy t'do...//

And, as an added bonus, it kept him away from creepy people like Mr. Holmes. Which wasn't even most of the reason that he was so inclined to wallow, but it certainly deserved mention.

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2010-08-30 10:39 pm (UTC) (Link)

Of course there came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at Jono's chamber door.


2010-08-30 10:41 pm (UTC) (Link)

Quoth the Chamber:

//Shouldn't be locked.//

... Which didn't quite have the proper ring to it, no, but at least he was communicating. Somewhat.


2010-08-30 10:45 pm (UTC) (Link)

Having returned from talking to Karla at 'Dite's shop, Raven had decided to check on Jono, and as she stepped into the room, she was not entirely surprised, but not pleased, to see him still in bed. "Have you been in bed all day, Jono?" she said with concern.


2010-08-30 10:50 pm (UTC) (Link)

//I...// Well, now he was stuck for it. He couldn't exactly lie to her, after all, and all the same, he didn't really feel like admitting to it, either.

Admitting it was sort of like saying, 'yes, I've just rolled over and given up, in spite of all of the hard work and care that you've shown these past few days.' Which would have been wonderfully thoughtful of him, wouldn't it?

//... maybe?//


2010-08-30 10:53 pm (UTC) (Link)

Raven moved to sit on the edge of the end of his bed. "You did not have class today, did you?" she said. It would be a graver offense if he was blowing off school and rolling over and giving up. But not by much.


2010-08-30 10:57 pm (UTC) (Link)

//Tomorrow,// he replied, watching her take a seat for a moment before scooting back on the bed, propping himself back against the headboard and pulling his knees up around his... chest. //And work. Class and work.//

Tomorrow. Not today. Today had been pre-schedule-approved quality moping time.


2010-08-30 11:02 pm (UTC) (Link)

"Well, some rest should you good," Raven said, deciding to give him a pass for it this time. "But it is a very nice day outside. Would you like to go for a walk?"

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