needsaparrot: (bitch please)
You know how when something embarrassing happens and contacting other humans is probably the Dumbest Thing Ever, you still do, just because there's the tiniest, tiniest chance it might not just be you and you have to confirm that even at the risk of... something embarrassing happening?

Huh. Maybe it's just Xander.

Then again, some days it's not Xander. He kinda loves those days.
needsaparrot: (looking up - seated)
You know that blissful moment when you've just woken up and you register you're awake, but none of the previous day has yet filtered into your consciousness, so you just lie there and enjoy the silence, maybe stretch a bit?

Yeah, that didn't last long. Also it's really hard to lie there when you wake up sitting on a couch. He didn't have a lot of time to creak and groan, though. As soon as the memories poured in and the omigodomigodomigod started, there were calls to make.

It's actually also pretty difficult to download the radio podcast on your phone while facepalming and trying not to smell the half-empty glass of blood on the coffee table in front of you, though Xander managed that one somehow.

[Linkdroppy/stablishy only.]
needsaparrot: (z-wv-withwillow)
Oh yeah. This was seriously more like it. Big empty place, plenty of sun-free rooms, machine that spits out whatever kind of food you ask for, and since he'd woken up to a familiar form all snuggled up in one of the beds with him, somebody to share it with.

He'd been out right after sunset to make a few arrangements, but now he was back with that somebody, waiting around for the fun to start. "I love how you always manage to find me," he said to her with a long, narrow grin.

[OOC: for [ profile] willbedone and.... expected guests. NFB and wandering in a NWS direction.]
needsaparrot: (z-wv-unimpressed)
Xander? Had not had the best night. Oh, it had started off well enough, but then his potential meals-and-more had been fangblocked by that little blonde Slayer, and his reunion with Willow went tits-up too, and not in the fun way. Actually, in the crossy, burny, owie, insult to injury way. He was tired, he was hungry, he had cross-burns on his chest and he-didn't-want-to-think-about-it in his hair, and the last thing he wanted to do was trek halfway across this damn island on foot to get from the preserve out to the hotel again.

Which is why when he passed the apartment building with the darkened full-length patio windows on the ground floor, he cocked his head and peered inside. A whine so high-pitched that probably only dogs and vampires could hear it announced that there was an alarm on the place, but he traced the sound to the well-concealed little box it was coming from, and ripped out the wires connecting it to the door. Then he shrugged, wrapped his jacket around his hand, and punched through the glass )
[OOC: So very very very establishy only because omg 4:30 a.m. Unless BFF-with-benefits would like to track him here and show up before dawn.]
needsaparrot: (z-wv-default)
Xander woke up a little before sunset. Like, you know, normal people do, so breakfast gets a chance to run around out there while you sleep and warm itself up for ya.

There was no sign of Willow in the room; he guessed she must've found someplace to hole up for the day. Hopefully with a better-stocked wetbar than this one; the booze selection was okay, but not a drop of the red in sight. A quick toss of the room, peeking into the wardrobe and under the bed -- and in the big suitcase just in case because sometimes Willow got creative -- revealed that they hadn't stashed the former occupant anywhere, either.

Just as well, probably; he hated leftovers.

Still, it meant that by the time the sun finally set, he was hungry. Xander put on his leather jacket, slipped a small bottle of whiskey from the bar into one of the pockets, and grabbed the money clip out of the computer bag that must've belonged to last night's dinner. Not like he'd be needing it, and not like this was Sunnydale. Town not ruled by vampires, you still needed cash for some things.

Then he was out the door and into the night.

[Yaddayaddastablishycakes. Xander's... Xander. If he happened to have died when he was sixteen, never met Buffy Summers, and definitely never went to Fandom High.]

November 2011

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