needsaparrot: (ducking head)
Xander is exhausted when he finally makes it back to his apartment, and not the good kind of engagement-announcing, Parker-tormenting, hard work and butt-bow-threatening kind of exhaustion.

No, this would be more the missing fiancé, teleporting to Greece, climbing Mount Olympus, hey-let's-play 20-questions-with-the-gods kind of exhaustion. Plus there was hopscotch.

You'd think some of that would go away after he discovered Bridge had been rescued, but not so much. Xander's still bone-weary with worry, and probably will be until he makes it inside and sees him face-to--- "Bridge?"

[OOC: For he whose name is on Xander's ass. Still not you, Jamie.]
needsaparrot: (with Bronwyn - wee me)
No matter how busy a day certain people might have had today (or yesterday, for that matter), at some point after the ice cream, there comes the bedtime. No, really.

[OOC: For the B-word people and eventually someone else. Whose name is not Madrox, Fray, Weasley, Cooper, Blank, Cox, Krevlornswath, or Animal. *waits to see who I forgot*]
needsaparrot: (sprawl)

Isabel had gone home after their meeting with Parker and Jarod, but Xander and Bridge had decided they'd be less wiped-out tomorrow if they stayed here instead of going back to the island. It'd have been nice if there were any rooms left at the Hyatt besides the rockstars-have-parties-in-the-jacuzzi kind, but any bed without living things besides him and Bridge in it would do, really, for one night.

At least this was a slow week, not another one filled with recovering from being taken over by somebody else for the weekend or visiting people in the clinic. Hate The Moon Day Parties and birthdays were a lot less exhausting. So was spending time with Bridge, meeting new tenants, and goofing off with old friends.

Tomorrow, though.... not so much with the goofing off. Xander flops back on the motel room bed and stretches, then sits back up, fiddling with the remote, kind of tired and wired at the same time.

[For the B-word-person. NFB due to distance, NWS due to magic fingers.]

needsaparrot: (unshaven - serious)
While Fandom weirdness had been laying low for a while aside from certain timeline-related Moments Of Awkward, holiday and birthday-type activities had more than stepped up to fill in the space. So tonight's a rare night of relaxing in front of the tv, since most of Xander's non-party time this week has been spent up in the workshop, not being an elf. Exactly.

But certainly not burglarizing Christmas, unlike someone on his tv screen right now.

[OOC: For the non-redheaded tiny Jewish Santa b-word-person.]
needsaparrot: (xanderswillow)
Date: 11/15/2007

Dear Xander: You'd BETTER be okay. I mean it, mister. Don't make me come over there... as soon as there's a there there again.

your BFF who is not wigging out that your phone says it's out of area and e-mails to you or anybody with a fandomhigh address are bouncing because there's no post traumatic stress syndrome there at ALL, nope, no sir.

Subject: [message failed]

Mailbox "purplefrog" unreachable.

This may not be a permanent error.

>Dear Xander ...
[OOC: Establishy, and NFB since it never reached the island!]
needsaparrot: (computer)
To: Parker
From: Xander
Date: Wednesday, October 17th

>Half relieved not to be there, half very very very ... concerned for you. And Bridge. And the others. Gah.

On the other hand, you're missing possessed board-games with funny monkeys. And, okay, man-eating spiders, but what's a little man-eating between friends, right?

Go ahead. Take it. That was me handing you the straight-line on a plate.

>*mutters to self in Chinese and wishes for you to be unemployed in secondary job*

How about underemployed? I'd settle for that. Keep the Slayer, lose the vampires. She could save the world from dust bunnies, mimes, and bad cheese. Oh, or we could just hire her out to protect all the other kids from the Invasion of the Parents this weekend, poor bastards.

No, I'm not sure if I mean the kids or the families. Better them than me, is all I'm saying. Thank God all I have to worry about is the evil undead.

And the bad cheese.


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