wesleynotponcy: (neg: thinking tough stuff)
Wesley couldn't quite clamp down on the small pained noises that rose instinctively in his throat as he made his way agonizingly slowly up the last set of stairs to the fifth floor. It just figured, didn't it, that his room would be on the top floor when he was in this condition. Well. At least it wasn't too far from the stairwell to his room.

He limped the few steps to his door and unlocked it. He knew that he would have to do inventory of the injuries later, but right now he was focused rather single-mindedly on making sure Katniss had enough food and then collapsing in bed. He rather hoped he'd find her sleeping -- he didn't much fancy the idea of her seeing him like this. It would just be another piece of evidence that he wasn't equipped to take care of someone.

[[For the mockingjay. Up early for probable eventual SP.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neg: slumped messy room)
It was afternoon. Or maybe it was morning. Or night, even. Wesley hadn't moved since coming to his room in the first place yesterday after finishing watching the Games, at which point he'd slumped onto the floor with a bottle of scotch and proceeded to down what felt like most of it. His head lolled back against the bed behind him. 

Everything hurt. Just -- less, with the fuzzy outline that alcohol gave everything. He wasn't moving.

[[for she who knows who she is! NFB, please.]]
wesleynotponcy: (Default)
Wesley was... well, he had his nose buried in a legal pad as he jotted things down with unhealthy attentiveness regarding Katniss' participation in the Games. The lingering sense of something weird being in the room was there, as usual, because his roommate was around somewhere, though due to the timing, he'd come to regard that as associated with the whole Games thing. At some point after crossing out "Send ammunition" and rewriting it in the margins, he noticed that feeling start to subside somewhat, and he glanced up... to find a Labrador puppy sitting on Alex's bed.

Well, then.

Back to the list. Although after glancing up once more, he did make certain to add "Buy dog food." This was something he'd learned from his last roommate.

[[open, although there will be SP after 7 Eastern! roommate, of course, modded with the permission of [info]thegodofxbox.]]
wesleynotponcy: (surprised)
Wesley had gotten dressed before he'd really considered what he was going to do for the day. Surprise surprise, he chose homework. He sat on his bed, a textbook on his lap so he could start a reading assignment, when he noticed that next to him on the bed was... an onion?

He leaned over to inspect it, because what was an onion doing on the couch, when all of a sudden it barked, "Your daddy doesn't love you!"

Wes blinked. Talking onion? "Wh - what?"

"Your daddy doesn't love you," the onion repeated matter-of-factly. "Because you're a disappointment. And a disgrace to the Watchers' Council."

Wesley ducked his head. "I know," he said quietly. He peered at the onion carefully, tilting his head to get a better look. What the hell?

"It's just that the Council trusted you," the onion continued after a pause. "Because they thought you could do the job. Lord knows Rupert Giles couldn't handle it. And then you went and botched it up, like you botch everything else up. You couldn't even handle two teenage girls. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really - "

Wesley stared. "I know all this," he said calmly. "Now unless you have something to tell me that I don't already know, I suggest that you stop talking and sit quietly like an onion should."

The onion was silent for a moment. Then: "Your Latin is dreadful."

Wes sank his head into his hands. Today was going to suck.

[[open!]]

wesleynotponcy: (ooookay)
Wes was on the phone with his father, and he was not enjoying himself.

"Yes, Father, I understand." He switched the phone to his other ear. "It's simply that the course itself hardly seems challenging at all, and it puts me in rather an awkward position to be taking a class from a girl who I - well, never mind." 

He listened to his father's deprecating response, then calmly went on, "Yes, I know. However, if I had been a more adept Watcher, I would not be at this school to begin with, which makes that point rather irrelevant." Before his father could say anything else, he gritted his teeth and said, "Send my love to Mother," then slammed the phone down.

He was furious. Stuck in this school, in a class he couldn't possibly deal with taught by the very woman responsible for his being here, with a roommate who might be insane and things happening to him like getting stuck on the roof with a bratty cheerleader. He'd take the regulations and demands of the Watchers' Academy over this any day, or the awkwardness and routine embarrassment of Sunnydale. Right now he hated Fandom with a passion. He crossed the room and slammed the door shut and then collapsed on his bed, groaning a little when the door only bounced back open.

[ooc: open! come chat with him, he's cute like this! after the next 20 minutes I have class, though, so it'll be SP after that.]

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February 2015

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