Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

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.]]

Upon returning to his room after a day of handwavy not-stalking, Wesley was more than a bit perturbed to notice a cupcake and a flier left outside his door. Upon picking it up and glancing at the handwritten note on the back, he was even more perturbed.

"May the best... what?"

Because he totally Wasn't Running. To his knowledge. What on earth?

Well. Quinn had his vote, at any rate.

[[Establishy, but I guess open if you want to catch him and be subjected to three days of horrible SP.]]

So Wesley was a student council rep. That was good. It was always nice to be in charge of stuff. Except when it was stuff that he sucked at, but he was actually fairly decent at leadership, so this should be good. Hopefully. Probably.

Based on the insanely hectic couple of weeks he'd had, he sat down at his desk and began writing a letter to his dad. Because apparently Wes' response to succeeding at things was to seek out criticism. Whatever, he was weird.

The door to his room was open and he was in a pretty good mood, all things considered.