Post by Bobby Drake on Aug 17, 2007 15:42:29 GMT
(( picks up from John and Bob’s discussion in the locker room, open, we’re still some time between CTF and Graduation Ball if it matters ))
Bobby’s made it up two flights of stairs, through the lobby, and about thirty yards down the driveway before he realizes he has absolutely no idea where he’s going.
There’s no point to driving alone into town this late at night unless he’s going to go hang out at a bar or something like that, and he really isn’t in the mood. He could go for a swim, but between his workout and that Danger Room session and the freakiness with his ankle he’s had enough exercise for one night. He could make himself an ice-cream sundae – heh… poof! I’m an ice-cream sundae! Bet I could do it, too, if I worked at it … the silliness of that actually elicits a giggle before it’s crushed under the weight of self-pity and frustration – but he’s trying to get out of the habit of using food to treat situational depression. Jeez, I sound more and more like Sean every day.
So he turns around, goes back inside, upstairs… then flattens against the wall when he sees Laurie furtively sneaking into John and Toby’s room. That’s weird… wonder what she’s up to? If Bobby had to make a list of Institute residents likely to be sneaking into that room, he suspects Laurie would be close to the bottom of it. Oh well. None of my business, I guess. He takes a step back out into the hall and then hides again a moment later as John comes up the back stairs – showered and changed, Bobby can’t help but notice – and enters his room after her.
Bobby cringes, waiting for the inevitable explosion when John discovers her… except it doesn’t come. Wait… are they… you’ve got to be kidding me. No way, that’s ridiculous… she’s not like that… He shakes his head to clear it of disturbing notions… no doubt it’s all perfectly innocent, and he just has an over-active imagination.
No doubt.
But he still pauses as he reaches his own door, sensing Matthew moving around behind it, and decides he’d rather not try to talk to Matthew with that thought in his head, given his track record today with keeping his mouth shut. So he keeps walking, studiously ignoring John’s door as he passes it (of course, he can’t help but notice their heat-patterns, right? It’s not like he’s peeking, after all. He’s tried hard not to do that ever since the Professor caught him at it, his first summer at the Institute, and gave him the Privacy Talk. But of course he notices that John’s sitting on his bed, and Laurie’s standing some distance away. That’s hardly his fault, right?) and heads back downstairs.
He makes it down two flights of stairs, through the lobby, and about thirty yards down the driveway before he realizes he has absolutely no idea where he’s going.
Bobby’s made it up two flights of stairs, through the lobby, and about thirty yards down the driveway before he realizes he has absolutely no idea where he’s going.
There’s no point to driving alone into town this late at night unless he’s going to go hang out at a bar or something like that, and he really isn’t in the mood. He could go for a swim, but between his workout and that Danger Room session and the freakiness with his ankle he’s had enough exercise for one night. He could make himself an ice-cream sundae – heh… poof! I’m an ice-cream sundae! Bet I could do it, too, if I worked at it … the silliness of that actually elicits a giggle before it’s crushed under the weight of self-pity and frustration – but he’s trying to get out of the habit of using food to treat situational depression. Jeez, I sound more and more like Sean every day.
So he turns around, goes back inside, upstairs… then flattens against the wall when he sees Laurie furtively sneaking into John and Toby’s room. That’s weird… wonder what she’s up to? If Bobby had to make a list of Institute residents likely to be sneaking into that room, he suspects Laurie would be close to the bottom of it. Oh well. None of my business, I guess. He takes a step back out into the hall and then hides again a moment later as John comes up the back stairs – showered and changed, Bobby can’t help but notice – and enters his room after her.
Bobby cringes, waiting for the inevitable explosion when John discovers her… except it doesn’t come. Wait… are they… you’ve got to be kidding me. No way, that’s ridiculous… she’s not like that… He shakes his head to clear it of disturbing notions… no doubt it’s all perfectly innocent, and he just has an over-active imagination.
No doubt.
But he still pauses as he reaches his own door, sensing Matthew moving around behind it, and decides he’d rather not try to talk to Matthew with that thought in his head, given his track record today with keeping his mouth shut. So he keeps walking, studiously ignoring John’s door as he passes it (of course, he can’t help but notice their heat-patterns, right? It’s not like he’s peeking, after all. He’s tried hard not to do that ever since the Professor caught him at it, his first summer at the Institute, and gave him the Privacy Talk. But of course he notices that John’s sitting on his bed, and Laurie’s standing some distance away. That’s hardly his fault, right?) and heads back downstairs.
He makes it down two flights of stairs, through the lobby, and about thirty yards down the driveway before he realizes he has absolutely no idea where he’s going.
