wesleynotponcy: (neu: chill)
By the time he was ready to leave, Wesley only had a duffel bag and a backpack to take with him, and the rest of his things had been donated or thrown away. He kept looking around his room as if to verify that he hadn't missed some enormous pile of something, because really, it didn't seem right that he could've spent almost two years here and emerge with so little belongings.

But he had the important things: Gunderson's Index of Demons, which had transformed into a person that time in 2010; his stash of weapons, including a bated sword, a stake from a memorable encounter, and a ridiculously expensive bow he'd bought a year ago that had never quite fit him; some clothing that he'd probably wear in Los Angeles and some, like a tuxedo with sentimental value and a grey uniform he couldn't help glowering at that he probably wouldn't; a classy campaign flyer and a vastly less classy counterpart; a tiny silver watch that confused him until he realized who it had probably come from; a few limbs from some mechanical spiders; a flyer announcing a meeting; an admission ticket to a zoo; a graduation cap and gown and a diploma he'd already managed to crumple a little.

He was heading off on his own, contrary to the plan he'd held for the better part of the school year. Which was naturally upsetting, and he'd likely be getting a tad drunk with Cordelia when he got back to Los Angeles, but right now he was focusing on what it felt like to be leaving Fandom after two entire years, now that he'd completed what had been meant as a punishment for his failure in Sunnydale but had turned out to be quite a bit more than that.

It was disorienting, to say the least, but he was fairly certain that he was ready for it.

[[open exit post before he departs and moves to alum status, yeah]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: chill)
A week after being checked into the hospital in Los Angeles, Wesley was free to go.

And as it turned out, Wesley was not really all that skilled at steering a wheelchair. Or... skilled at all, really. The process of transporting himself from the tip of the causeway all the way to the dorms involved quite a bit of bumping into things, a fair amount of swearing under his breath, and more than a little damage to the wheels of the damn thing.

It also took over an hour, what with the occasional (and then... less occasional) much-needed break to stop, breathe, and avoid straining the injury that was confining him to this stupid thing in the first place.

But. Eventually he made it. After, you know, swearing quite a bit to himself on the elevator ride up to the fifth floor, and bumping into quite a few walls and all of that.

It was safe to say that he he'd made more noise than intended, let's leave it at that.

[[door and post both open! and consider this your warning that if i forget to mention the chair in narrative for the next couple weeks, he is still in it, yup.]]
wesleynotponcy: (dorky: edge of seat)
Wesley was just in the middle of drafting an email to Giles about possibly borrowing books when something odd happened. His phone rang.

Yes, yes, laugh it up, he was terribly unpopular. But today – today his phone was ringing and it was Cordelia. He answered not halfway through the first ring, sounding nearly manic as he answered, "Yes?"

His eyes went wide. "Oh! You – you do?" They needed him? "You and – and Charles. And you'd like me to – a new agency? Well, yes, of course. I'll be there straightaway." Just as he was hurrying around the room and gathering his things, he made sure to double-check, "Oh – and, er, Cordelia? Would you be all right with my, ah, staying on your couch?"

[[mostly 'stablishtastic, but open before he leaves, if you'd like!]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: important research)
Wesley was doing something odd today. He was... well, he was using the internet to look for jobs.

It was really rather more difficult than he'd thought it would be; apparently Los Angeles was full of people looking for work, and few of the positions open to someone with a theoretical high school diploma really looked all that appealing. He thought he'd most like something with books, really, which probably made him a lot more similar to Giles than he'd really like to be and that was certainly not something he'd like to think about right now.

Sometime after encountering the nineteenth food service ad, he huffed to himself and muttered with the heaviest sarcasm, "I might as well just ask Cordelia to put me into contact with her acting agent; maybe that would speed this along."

Thank god for the sarcasm there. That would've been a disaster.

[[open open!]]
wesleynotponcy: (neg: slumped messy room)
So it was possible that Wesley's room was a tad bit untidy today and this was apparently a theme today, but this time it wasn't Alex's fault. Or at least, not entirely. Today's mess had something to do with the fact that Wesley was sitting on the floor, with papers strewn everywhere as he researched... a hotel.

Yes, he felt a bit silly about it himself, but it was what Angel had asked him to work on. So.

"A two hundred and forty-year old vampire with a soul with an interest in real estate," he murmured to himself, poring over an ownership deed that Cordelia had faxed over after being unable to make heads or tails of it. "Honestly."

[[open! good god, i haven't roomposted this one in forever, oops.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neg: slumped messy room)
So it was possible that Wesley's room was a tad bit untidy today and this was apparently a theme today, but this time it wasn't Alex's fault. Or at least, not entirely. Today's mess had something to do with the fact that Wesley was sitting on the floor, with papers strewn everywhere as he researched... a hotel.

Yes, he felt a bit silly about it himself, but it was what Angel had asked him to work on. So.

"A two hundred and forty-year old vampire with a soul with an interest in real estate," he murmured to himself, poring over an ownership deed that Cordelia had faxed over after being unable to make heads or tails of it. "Honestly."

[[open! good god, i haven't roomposted this one in forever, oops.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: phone: conversational)
Today had gone like this: Planned Reserves meeting, set up Reserves meeting, listened to people share information about their home worlds, and then made a really stupid promise to Warren.

The end of the meeting meant that he actually had to make good on that promise. So here they were.

"So, ah." He glanced down at the phone in his hand. "Shall I go first, or would you like to?"

[[For one!]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: phone: conversational)
Today had gone like this: Planned Reserves meeting, set up Reserves meeting, listened to people share information about their home worlds, and then made a really stupid promise to Warren.

The end of the meeting meant that he actually had to make good on that promise. So here they were.

"So, ah." He glanced down at the phone in his hand. "Shall I go first, or would you like to?"

[[For one!]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: phone: conversational)
Since his conversation with Tara on Friday, Wesley had been spending most of his time lost in research about whatever was happening to the multiverse, and thus far it was inconclusive. Book after book had proved unhelpful, so finally, exasperated, he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.
 
"This number has been disconnected," reported the recording on the other end of the line. "Please hang up and dial—"
 
How odd.
 
Well, he tried to rationalize, it wasn't as though Mr. Giles had ever been entirely savvy with technology. He tried Willow's number instead, doing his best to ignore that creeping wary feeling that was rising to the surface.
 
Willow's chipper voice answered, and for a moment Wesley foolishly felt reassured. )

[[door and post open]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: phone: conversational)
Since his conversation with Tara on Friday, Wesley had been spending most of his time lost in research about whatever was happening to the multiverse, and thus far it was inconclusive. Book after book had proved unhelpful, so finally, exasperated, he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.
 
"This number has been disconnected," reported the recording on the other end of the line. "Please hang up and dial—"
 
How odd.
 
Well, he tried to rationalize, it wasn't as though Mr. Giles had ever been entirely savvy with technology. He tried Willow's number instead, doing his best to ignore that creeping wary feeling that was rising to the surface.
 
Willow's chipper voice answered, and for a moment Wesley foolishly felt reassured. )

[[door and post open]]
wesleynotponcy: (weetiny: watcher)
Wesley had a lot of work to do, and he didn't have time to see why people outside were making so much noise. He had to read Gunderson's entire text by morning, plus write his father a letter and prepare for his exam on Tuesday.

He sat at his desk, steadily working his way through a passage about vampires' strategic torture methods. It certainly wasn't particularly light reading, but -- as he adjusted his Watchers' Academy uniform-issue tie and squinted down at the big words -- he had to get through it if he wanted to be a Watcher someday and impress Father. Maybe if he did that, once he grew up and came home on vacations, he wouldn't be a disappointment anymore and Father wouldn't have him sleep under the stairs.

[[Door cracked, post open.]]
wesleynotponcy: (weetiny: watcher)
Wesley had a lot of work to do, and he didn't have time to see why people outside were making so much noise. He had to read Gunderson's entire text by morning, plus write his father a letter and prepare for his exam on Tuesday.

He sat at his desk, steadily working his way through a passage about vampires' strategic torture methods. It certainly wasn't particularly light reading, but -- as he adjusted his Watchers' Academy uniform-issue tie and squinted down at the big words -- he had to get through it if he wanted to be a Watcher someday and impress Father. Maybe if he did that, once he grew up and came home on vacations, he wouldn't be a disappointment anymore and Father wouldn't have him sleep under the stairs.

[[Door cracked, post open.]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: wait wut)
So Wesley had books. Lots of books. And they were... interesting.

By interesting, he meant that they made him blush pretty much constantly. They were that kind of books.

"She'd like that?" he wondered at one point, copying over a particularly surprising passage into his notebook. "How would I even -- " He turned the page, revealing a diagram. "Oh. Oh."

Yeah. Totally blushing.

[[Open door and post, expecting one. I'm a jerk.]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: wait wut)
So Wesley had books. Lots of books. And they were... interesting.

By interesting, he meant that they made him blush pretty much constantly. They were that kind of books.

"She'd like that?" he wondered at one point, copying over a particularly surprising passage into his notebook. "How would I even -- " He turned the page, revealing a diagram. "Oh. Oh."

Yeah. Totally blushing.

[[Open door and post, expecting one. I'm a jerk.]]
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: 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: (phone: conversational)
There really was nothing quite so unpleasant as taking a phone call from his father, Wesley thought irritably. The book he'd been reading remained open on the desk in front of him, but knowing that he'd be called out on it if his father could hear pages rustling in the background, he didn't touch it.

The topic for the day was Parents' Weekend. While Wesley thought his position was fairly obvious -- that there was absolutely no need for his father to make an appearance, thank you very much -- it seemed that they needed to belabor the point.

"...and you see, Wesley, if it were any other weekend, I'm sure I could move things around, but I do have quite a bit of paperwork I need to get to, and I just can't justify taking the time away from my desk."

Of course.

"Yes, Father, I understand," Wesley said, hoping that would wrap up the discussion and knowing at the same time that he wouldn't be so lucky. "I -- "

"And really, I hardly see a reason to attend, particularly if doing so would just merit more insults from the caustic young women you call your friends," his father went on. "After all, it's not as though you've accomplished very much. Only three people ran for Student Council and you couldn't manage to get yourself elected president? Well. I think that speaks for itself, don't you?"

"Yes, Father."

Today sucked.

[[Door and post open.]]
wesleynotponcy: (phone: conversational)
There really was nothing quite so unpleasant as taking a phone call from his father, Wesley thought irritably. The book he'd been reading remained open on the desk in front of him, but knowing that he'd be called out on it if his father could hear pages rustling in the background, he didn't touch it.

The topic for the day was Parents' Weekend. While Wesley thought his position was fairly obvious -- that there was absolutely no need for his father to make an appearance, thank you very much -- it seemed that they needed to belabor the point.

"...and you see, Wesley, if it were any other weekend, I'm sure I could move things around, but I do have quite a bit of paperwork I need to get to, and I just can't justify taking the time away from my desk."

Of course.

"Yes, Father, I understand," Wesley said, hoping that would wrap up the discussion and knowing at the same time that he wouldn't be so lucky. "I -- "

"And really, I hardly see a reason to attend, particularly if doing so would just merit more insults from the caustic young women you call your friends," his father went on. "After all, it's not as though you've accomplished very much. Only three people ran for Student Council and you couldn't manage to get yourself elected president? Well. I think that speaks for itself, don't you?"

"Yes, Father."

Today sucked.

[[Door and post open.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: r u srs right now)
For the first time in a long, long time, Wesley was neither hiding with the door closed or reading in the library. Actually, today, he was cleaning. Not that his room was terribly messy -- just the opposite, it had been fairly organized to start off. But after the weekend he'd had (handwavily) in Los Angeles, not to mention the better part of the summer, Wesley felt better knowing that he was doing something productive that would result in things looking up.

True, he was worried about Katniss; true, he was less than thrilled by the latest turn "his" campaign had taken; true, he'd received a less-than-complimentary letter from his father today. But cleaning, at least, felt better than wallowing. So today Wesley could be found organizing his room, and occasionally disappearing into the hallway to throw out garbage. And if that garbage happened to include his father's letter, well, it had been taking up space.

[[Door and post open! I'm around till like 5 Central, then SP. Eee, Central. :D]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: r u srs right now)
For the first time in a long, long time, Wesley was neither hiding with the door closed or reading in the library. Actually, today, he was cleaning. Not that his room was terribly messy -- just the opposite, it had been fairly organized to start off. But after the weekend he'd had (handwavily) in Los Angeles, not to mention the better part of the summer, Wesley felt better knowing that he was doing something productive that would result in things looking up.

True, he was worried about Katniss; true, he was less than thrilled by the latest turn "his" campaign had taken; true, he'd received a less-than-complimentary letter from his father today. But cleaning, at least, felt better than wallowing. So today Wesley could be found organizing his room, and occasionally disappearing into the hallway to throw out garbage. And if that garbage happened to include his father's letter, well, it had been taking up space.

[[Door and post open! I'm around till like 5 Central, then SP. Eee, Central. :D]]

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