Fray-Adjacent

After a night of patrolling with Mel turned into Slayerfest 2007, Xander had decided to pass on following that up with a trip to Caritas, and had instead headed home to relax. He could thus now be found curled up on the couch poking Amazon.com about a new copy of a certain book, now that his laptop was all shipshape and internets-getting again, post-blackout.
__
[OOC: for certain expected guestages.]

After a week full of encounters, some of them less awkward than others and at least one a lot less expected than others, Xander was alone.

More specifically, he was sitting alone at the small table in his kitchen, with a beer and a box.

The tv out in the den was playing something old enough to have a laugh track and familiar enough that he wasn't really listening to it. He'd just left it on for the noise.

You'd think he'd be out there watching, since it wasn't like he was doing anything else productive, like going through the box. He was just sitting there in the kitchen, slowly sipping his beer and flipping through the first thing he'd found packed at the top of the box: a photo album.
__
[OOC: for a certain returning wayfarer, yis]

Waiting around to hear from certain people who dropped major bombshells on him then ran off to spend the weekend someplace that might possibly have corpses? Why no. Alternating that with worry about other people, just for a change of pace? Of course not.

After all, Xander'd had a busy week. He'd rented two apartments (three if you counted the one for the chalk), met or re-met a bunch of very pretty interesting arms people, and been called cute on the radio. Plenty to think about that wasn't corpse-related.

So not thinking about that. At all. Nope.

[OOC: for a couple of returning wayfarers.]