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: (warrior: defiant chin up)
From watching others attempt it, Wesley had always expected on-the-spot strategizing to be difficult -- impossible, even, coming from him -- but now he was finding that it actually wasn't all that challenging.

"Get your coat," he ordered Faith, leading her down the stairs. (As if he would let her walk behind him, not two days after what had happened.) To Angel, he explained, "Slight change of plan. In about twenty minutes, the Council's Operations Team is coming here. They'll expect to find you gone and her drugged."

And him a ponce. No, Wesley wasn't letting that go. )

[[Warning for mild gun violence in this. Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC is love, all this was preplayed with a cool person I know called MYSELF though I stole icons from all the canonmates and old guest stars ever, what are you gonna do about it? Up early for... other stuff coming later. Shh. Follows this, this, this, this, this and this. DONE SPAMMING NOW. Almost.]]
wesleynotponcy: (warrior: defiant chin up)
From watching others attempt it, Wesley had always expected on-the-spot strategizing to be difficult -- impossible, even, coming from him -- but now he was finding that it actually wasn't all that challenging.

"Get your coat," he ordered Faith, leading her down the stairs. (As if he would let her walk behind him, not two days after what had happened.) To Angel, he explained, "Slight change of plan. In about twenty minutes, the Council's Operations Team is coming here. They'll expect to find you gone and her drugged."

And him a ponce. No, Wesley wasn't letting that go. )

[[Warning for mild gun violence in this. Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC is love, all this was preplayed with a cool person I know called MYSELF though I stole icons from all the canonmates and old guest stars ever, what are you gonna do about it? Up early for... other stuff coming later. Shh. Follows this, this, this, this, this and this. DONE SPAMMING NOW. Almost.]]
wesleynotponcy: (fact: darts)
Wesley had thought he would go home. Or, well, back to school, rather, though for a while now "home" had been the best word for it. Either way, he'd been on the verge of calling for a cab from the mainland when he suddenly just -- couldn't. Not now, when his ineptitude was so obvious from looking at his face. Or really any part of him -- the injuries covered most of his body, and his every step or movement was accompanied by a wince of pain at the very least. And as he didn't much favor the idea of returning to school so people could gawk and bear witness to said ineptitude, he found himself somewhere rather uncharacteristic.

In a bar. In Baltimore. Where he was throwing darts, with exceptionally precise aim, at the bulls' eye of the dartboard. It wasn't even interesting, and he certainly didn't need the practice given that they hit one hundred eighty every time, but the only other thing he could think of to relieve this much anger would involve a gun, and all of his were locked away in his dormitory.

And he was drinking beer. Apparently if you looked this beat-up, people tended not to ask for identification, though he'd foregone his usual choice of scotch out of wariness of whatever swill they'd be passing off as whiskey here.

He was having a miserable evening, but that was fine so long as no one was around to bear witness to anything he'd botched up. Throwing darts, at least, he had some skill at. And practicing in spite of the limp, the pain all over his body that the bad American beer was doing absolutely nothing to help numb, and the lack of feeling in his throwing arm, well, that was an extra challenge, wasn't it?

It was a bit unfortunate that Wesley had been hoping not to reminded of his failures tonight. )

[[Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC would give me the warm fuzzies, and this is post six of seven. Follows this, this, this, this, and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (fact: darts)
Wesley had thought he would go home. Or, well, back to school, rather, though for a while now "home" had been the best word for it. Either way, he'd been on the verge of calling for a cab from the mainland when he suddenly just -- couldn't. Not now, when his ineptitude was so obvious from looking at his face. Or really any part of him -- the injuries covered most of his body, and his every step or movement was accompanied by a wince of pain at the very least. And as he didn't much favor the idea of returning to school so people could gawk and bear witness to said ineptitude, he found himself somewhere rather uncharacteristic.

In a bar. In Baltimore. Where he was throwing darts, with exceptionally precise aim, at the bulls' eye of the dartboard. It wasn't even interesting, and he certainly didn't need the practice given that they hit one hundred eighty every time, but the only other thing he could think of to relieve this much anger would involve a gun, and all of his were locked away in his dormitory.

And he was drinking beer. Apparently if you looked this beat-up, people tended not to ask for identification, though he'd foregone his usual choice of scotch out of wariness of whatever swill they'd be passing off as whiskey here.

He was having a miserable evening, but that was fine so long as no one was around to bear witness to anything he'd botched up. Throwing darts, at least, he had some skill at. And practicing in spite of the limp, the pain all over his body that the bad American beer was doing absolutely nothing to help numb, and the lack of feeling in his throwing arm, well, that was an extra challenge, wasn't it?

It was a bit unfortunate that Wesley had been hoping not to reminded of his failures tonight. )

[[Taken and adapted from Angel 1x19, "Sanctuary." NFB, NFI, OOC would give me the warm fuzzies, and this is post six of seven. Follows this, this, this, this, and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (five by five: gag 3)
The first thing Wesley could think was that this was nothing like those minor burns he'd sustained in Panem. It hurt much, much more. )

[[Warning for graphic descriptions of torture under the cut. This is taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five," and this wraps up that episode (and the spam for the evening). NFB, NFI, OOC is as good as punching Faith in the nose okay maybe not quite as good, and this is post five of seven. Follows this, this, this and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (five by five: gag 3)
The first thing Wesley could think was that this was nothing like those minor burns he'd sustained in Panem. It hurt much, much more. )

[[Warning for graphic descriptions of torture under the cut. This is taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five," and this wraps up that episode (and the spam for the evening). NFB, NFI, OOC is as good as punching Faith in the nose okay maybe not quite as good, and this is post five of seven. Follows this, this, this and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: with fred (curious fred))
Wesley had the police reports open as he and Cordelia made their way through the halls of her building toward her apartment. No, he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about leaving, nor was he about taking Cordelia back to school with him, but it was clear that Angel was not budging on this matter and Wesley couldn't blame the man for not wanting him around in a situation when he was so obviously useless. He had a bird to take care of, he told himself firmly, and that was that.

Not to mention, of course, that the prospect of going up against whatever Faith was planning was utterly terrifying.

"There was another assault just two blocks away," he reported, squinting down at the page while Cordelia peered over his shoulder. "A fight in a bar, several arrests made, and a woman fitting Faith's description was involved -- however, not arrested."

Well, it seemed the Los Angeles police force was about as effective as the one in Sunnydale, then. )

[[Warning for mild violence under the cut. Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome! Post four of seven; follows this, this, and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (reading: with fred (curious fred))
Wesley had the police reports open as he and Cordelia made their way through the halls of her building toward her apartment. No, he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about leaving, nor was he about taking Cordelia back to school with him, but it was clear that Angel was not budging on this matter and Wesley couldn't blame the man for not wanting him around in a situation when he was so obviously useless. He had a bird to take care of, he told himself firmly, and that was that.

Not to mention, of course, that the prospect of going up against whatever Faith was planning was utterly terrifying.

"There was another assault just two blocks away," he reported, squinting down at the page while Cordelia peered over his shoulder. "A fight in a bar, several arrests made, and a woman fitting Faith's description was involved -- however, not arrested."

Well, it seemed the Los Angeles police force was about as effective as the one in Sunnydale, then. )

[[Warning for mild violence under the cut. Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome! Post four of seven; follows this, this, and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neg: earnest)
Wesley was still shaken by the time they returned to Angel's offices, and he was barely managing to keep from jittering as Angel wrapped up his phone call with Rupert Giles.

Faith was dangerous. She hated all of them -- perhaps Wesley most of all, though it felt arrogant to even suspect so. And he couldn't stop remembering the badly-written and difficult to track down conversation he'd had with her future counterpart over a year ago in which she'd seemed to imply that she would do something still worse than her offenses in Sunnydale later down the road. Sharing that with Cordelia and Angel seemed like more trouble than it was worth, but he, personally, was alarmed by it.

Then Angel hung up the phone, interrupting Wesley's stream of thoughts. )

[[Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome, post three of seven. Follows this and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neg: earnest)
Wesley was still shaken by the time they returned to Angel's offices, and he was barely managing to keep from jittering as Angel wrapped up his phone call with Rupert Giles.

Faith was dangerous. She hated all of them -- perhaps Wesley most of all, though it felt arrogant to even suspect so. And he couldn't stop remembering the badly-written and difficult to track down conversation he'd had with her future counterpart over a year ago in which she'd seemed to imply that she would do something still worse than her offenses in Sunnydale later down the road. Sharing that with Cordelia and Angel seemed like more trouble than it was worth, but he, personally, was alarmed by it.

Then Angel hung up the phone, interrupting Wesley's stream of thoughts. )

[[Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome, post three of seven. Follows this and this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (watcher: lecturey)
As usual, what Wesley had intended to be a brief visit to Los Angeles had ended up stretching longer than expected. Portalocity hadn't been able to book him a portal so late at night without connections during war periods that he'd really prefer not to pass through, so he'd slept on the couch in the office (which was terribly uncomfortable and not something he ever wished to do again). And in the morning, Cordelia received a phone call from a potential client, and Wesley -- well, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to be helpful, even if he did worry about whether he'd left Katniss enough birdseed.

He, Cordelia and Angel stepped out of the elevator of the office building where their client worked, and Wesley had to ask:

''I don't suppose you know just what it is we've been hired to do?'' )

[[Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome! Post two of seven; follows this.]]
wesleynotponcy: (watcher: lecturey)
As usual, what Wesley had intended to be a brief visit to Los Angeles had ended up stretching longer than expected. Portalocity hadn't been able to book him a portal so late at night without connections during war periods that he'd really prefer not to pass through, so he'd slept on the couch in the office (which was terribly uncomfortable and not something he ever wished to do again). And in the morning, Cordelia received a phone call from a potential client, and Wesley -- well, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to be helpful, even if he did worry about whether he'd left Katniss enough birdseed.

He, Cordelia and Angel stepped out of the elevator of the office building where their client worked, and Wesley had to ask:

''I don't suppose you know just what it is we've been hired to do?'' )

[[Once again, taken and adapted from Angel 1x18, "Five by Five." NFB, NFI, OOC is so welcome! Post two of seven; follows this.]]
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.]
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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