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Newtech City, the FUTURE, Monday
Oct. 24th, 2011 04:44 pmXander and Bridge had meant to catch the same portal to Fandom's homecoming that Z did, but, er...
Moving on.
There were other ways of catching up with people, anyway, both in and out of Fandom. Say, for instance, by pulling out one's phone while chilling outside SPD headquarters watching the D-Squad cadets do mud-runs.
Technically, Xander was supposed to be power-washing the windows, but he knew from experience that they'd manage to splat mud at least two stories high by the time they were done, so there was no point in cleaning anything until they all trooped back into the building. Hence, the punching of familiar numbers, and the munching of familiar golden spongecake goodness while he waited for an answer.
"Hey, Will. How's it hangin' in--"
"How many times do I have to point out that I don't have anything that hangs, Xander?" He'd be more worried about fitting a foot down his throat alongside that twinkie if she wasn't snickering.
"Well, not at thirty, you don't. Though the way you're built, even when you're sixty--" You know, there was no earthly way this could go anywhere good.
"Xander!"
See? "I just mean you'll probably still look bangin' even as an old lady! What's wrong with that?" Sadly, that's actually what he did mean.
"I'm twenty-nine!"
Whoops. Mmm, toes. "Fine, fine, twenty-nine. I gained six months on you somewhere in the nineteen thirties. Point is, only you, me, Buffy and your driver's license know you're robbing the cradle, and it's not like I can talk."
He was actually risking some anklebone gnawing here, depending on whether the onagainoffagain was offagain or onagain this month, but the distraction was worth it, and last he'd heard, things were On with a capital DEAR GOD, WILLOW, NEVER LET YOUR GIRLFRIEND HAVE ACCESS TO YOUR TWITPIC ACCOUNT AGAIN.
"How is Kennedy, anyway? Did I mention I met a tiny version of her in Fandom this summer?"
"...Who?"
"...Off again again, huh?"
"Sweetie, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Wow, when those two fought, they really fought. Xander just hoped for her sakeand possibly that of his imagination shut up that the epic make-up would be worth it.
[ILU SHANIE (AND TBQ) DUN HURT ME. Also open for calls/texts/invitations to Count Duckula's party/people in the FUTURE, as desired.]
Moving on.
There were other ways of catching up with people, anyway, both in and out of Fandom. Say, for instance, by pulling out one's phone while chilling outside SPD headquarters watching the D-Squad cadets do mud-runs.
Technically, Xander was supposed to be power-washing the windows, but he knew from experience that they'd manage to splat mud at least two stories high by the time they were done, so there was no point in cleaning anything until they all trooped back into the building. Hence, the punching of familiar numbers, and the munching of familiar golden spongecake goodness while he waited for an answer.
"Hey, Will. How's it hangin' in--"
"How many times do I have to point out that I don't have anything that hangs, Xander?" He'd be more worried about fitting a foot down his throat alongside that twinkie if she wasn't snickering.
"Well, not at thirty, you don't. Though the way you're built, even when you're sixty--" You know, there was no earthly way this could go anywhere good.
"Xander!"
See? "I just mean you'll probably still look bangin' even as an old lady! What's wrong with that?" Sadly, that's actually what he did mean.
"I'm twenty-nine!"
Whoops. Mmm, toes. "Fine, fine, twenty-nine. I gained six months on you somewhere in the nineteen thirties. Point is, only you, me, Buffy and your driver's license know you're robbing the cradle, and it's not like I can talk."
He was actually risking some anklebone gnawing here, depending on whether the onagainoffagain was offagain or onagain this month, but the distraction was worth it, and last he'd heard, things were On with a capital DEAR GOD, WILLOW, NEVER LET YOUR GIRLFRIEND HAVE ACCESS TO YOUR TWITPIC ACCOUNT AGAIN.
"How is Kennedy, anyway? Did I mention I met a tiny version of her in Fandom this summer?"
"...Who?"
"...Off again again, huh?"
"Sweetie, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Wow, when those two fought, they really fought. Xander just hoped for her sake
[ILU SHANIE (AND TBQ) DUN HURT ME. Also open for calls/texts/invitations to Count Duckula's party/people in the FUTURE, as desired.]
Newtech City, the FUTURE, Monday
Oct. 24th, 2011 04:44 pmXander and Bridge had meant to catch the same portal to Fandom's homecoming that Z did, but, er...
Moving on.
There were other ways of catching up with people, anyway, both in and out of Fandom. Say, for instance, by pulling out one's phone while chilling outside SPD headquarters watching the D-Squad cadets do mud-runs.
Technically, Xander was supposed to be power-washing the windows, but he knew from experience that they'd manage to splat mud at least two stories high by the time they were done, so there was no point in cleaning anything until they all trooped back into the building. Hence, the punching of familiar numbers, and the munching of familiar golden spongecake goodness while he waited for an answer.
"Hey, Will. How's it hangin' in--"
"How many times do I have to point out that I don't have anything that hangs, Xander?" He'd be more worried about fitting a foot down his throat alongside that twinkie if she wasn't snickering.
"Well, not at thirty, you don't. Though the way you're built, even when you're sixty--" You know, there was no earthly way this could go anywhere good.
"Xander!"
See? "I just mean you'll probably still look bangin' even as an old lady! What's wrong with that?" Sadly, that's actually what he did mean.
"I'm twenty-nine!"
Whoops. Mmm, toes. "Fine, fine, twenty-nine. I gained six months on you somewhere in the nineteen thirties. Point is, only you, me, Buffy and your driver's license know you're robbing the cradle, and it's not like I can talk."
He was actually risking some anklebone gnawing here, depending on whether the onagainoffagain was offagain or onagain this month, but the distraction was worth it, and last he'd heard, things were On with a capital DEAR GOD, WILLOW, NEVER LET YOUR GIRLFRIEND HAVE ACCESS TO YOUR TWITPIC ACCOUNT AGAIN.
"How is Kennedy, anyway? Did I mention I met a tiny version of her in Fandom this summer?"
"...Who?"
"...Off again again, huh?"
"Sweetie, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Wow, when those two fought, they really fought. Xander just hoped for her sakeand possibly that of his imagination shut up that the epic make-up would be worth it.
[ILU SHANIE (AND TBQ) DUN HURT ME. Also open for calls/texts/invitations to Count Duckula's party/people in the FUTURE, as desired.]
Moving on.
There were other ways of catching up with people, anyway, both in and out of Fandom. Say, for instance, by pulling out one's phone while chilling outside SPD headquarters watching the D-Squad cadets do mud-runs.
Technically, Xander was supposed to be power-washing the windows, but he knew from experience that they'd manage to splat mud at least two stories high by the time they were done, so there was no point in cleaning anything until they all trooped back into the building. Hence, the punching of familiar numbers, and the munching of familiar golden spongecake goodness while he waited for an answer.
"Hey, Will. How's it hangin' in--"
"How many times do I have to point out that I don't have anything that hangs, Xander?" He'd be more worried about fitting a foot down his throat alongside that twinkie if she wasn't snickering.
"Well, not at thirty, you don't. Though the way you're built, even when you're sixty--" You know, there was no earthly way this could go anywhere good.
"Xander!"
See? "I just mean you'll probably still look bangin' even as an old lady! What's wrong with that?" Sadly, that's actually what he did mean.
"I'm twenty-nine!"
Whoops. Mmm, toes. "Fine, fine, twenty-nine. I gained six months on you somewhere in the nineteen thirties. Point is, only you, me, Buffy and your driver's license know you're robbing the cradle, and it's not like I can talk."
He was actually risking some anklebone gnawing here, depending on whether the onagainoffagain was offagain or onagain this month, but the distraction was worth it, and last he'd heard, things were On with a capital DEAR GOD, WILLOW, NEVER LET YOUR GIRLFRIEND HAVE ACCESS TO YOUR TWITPIC ACCOUNT AGAIN.
"How is Kennedy, anyway? Did I mention I met a tiny version of her in Fandom this summer?"
"...Who?"
"...Off again again, huh?"
"Sweetie, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Wow, when those two fought, they really fought. Xander just hoped for her sake
[ILU SHANIE (AND TBQ) DUN HURT ME. Also open for calls/texts/invitations to Count Duckula's party/people in the FUTURE, as desired.]
MCA 0, Late Friday Night
Apr. 12th, 2008 02:09 amDespite Willow's closing rhyme, Xander had walked home slowly after radio, thinking about... well, a little bit of everything. Fandom weirdness. Upcoming graduations. Sooner-coming anniversaries. Nanaimo bars.
What? He had to pass Luke's Diner.
When he lets himself into the apartment, he's glad to see Bridge's jacket draped over the back of a couch, but most of the lights are out. There's a dim glow from the master bedroom, and he follows it back there, quietly pushing the door open. The lamp on the nightstand is turned down to its lowest setting, just bright enough to make out the shape of Bridge's face in sleep, half pressed into the pillow.
After this morning's wake-up call, Xander doesn't have the heart to disturb him. Instead, he just stands in the doorway for a long time, watching the shift of the covers, rising and falling to the slow, steady sound of Bridge's breath.
Finally, he turns and walks back to the living room, pulling out his laptop to tap out one last e-mail before returning to crawl under the covers himself.
To: wrosenberg@councilofwatchers.co.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Subject: Do not ask. Never, never ask.
Dear Willow:
I didn't lick the frog. Do you know a spell to....
...love, Xander
__
[Linkstaaaablishy! B-word-person modded with permission.]
What? He had to pass Luke's Diner.
When he lets himself into the apartment, he's glad to see Bridge's jacket draped over the back of a couch, but most of the lights are out. There's a dim glow from the master bedroom, and he follows it back there, quietly pushing the door open. The lamp on the nightstand is turned down to its lowest setting, just bright enough to make out the shape of Bridge's face in sleep, half pressed into the pillow.
After this morning's wake-up call, Xander doesn't have the heart to disturb him. Instead, he just stands in the doorway for a long time, watching the shift of the covers, rising and falling to the slow, steady sound of Bridge's breath.
Finally, he turns and walks back to the living room, pulling out his laptop to tap out one last e-mail before returning to crawl under the covers himself.
To: wrosenberg@councilofwatchers.co.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Subject: Do not ask. Never, never ask.
Dear Willow:
I didn't lick the frog. Do you know a spell to....
...love, Xander
__
[Linkstaaaablishy! B-word-person modded with permission.]
MCA 0, Late Friday Night
Apr. 12th, 2008 02:09 amDespite Willow's closing rhyme, Xander had walked home slowly after radio, thinking about... well, a little bit of everything. Fandom weirdness. Upcoming graduations. Sooner-coming anniversaries. Nanaimo bars.
What? He had to pass Luke's Diner.
When he lets himself into the apartment, he's glad to see Bridge's jacket draped over the back of a couch, but most of the lights are out. There's a dim glow from the master bedroom, and he follows it back there, quietly pushing the door open. The lamp on the nightstand is turned down to its lowest setting, just bright enough to make out the shape of Bridge's face in sleep, half pressed into the pillow.
After this morning's wake-up call, Xander doesn't have the heart to disturb him. Instead, he just stands in the doorway for a long time, watching the shift of the covers, rising and falling to the slow, steady sound of Bridge's breath.
Finally, he turns and walks back to the living room, pulling out his laptop to tap out one last e-mail before returning to crawl under the covers himself.
To: wrosenberg@councilofwatchers.co.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Subject: Do not ask. Never, never ask.
Dear Willow:
I didn't lick the frog. Do you know a spell to....
...love, Xander
__
[Linkstaaaablishy! B-word-person modded with permission.]
What? He had to pass Luke's Diner.
When he lets himself into the apartment, he's glad to see Bridge's jacket draped over the back of a couch, but most of the lights are out. There's a dim glow from the master bedroom, and he follows it back there, quietly pushing the door open. The lamp on the nightstand is turned down to its lowest setting, just bright enough to make out the shape of Bridge's face in sleep, half pressed into the pillow.
After this morning's wake-up call, Xander doesn't have the heart to disturb him. Instead, he just stands in the doorway for a long time, watching the shift of the covers, rising and falling to the slow, steady sound of Bridge's breath.
Finally, he turns and walks back to the living room, pulling out his laptop to tap out one last e-mail before returning to crawl under the covers himself.
To: wrosenberg@councilofwatchers.co.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Subject: Do not ask. Never, never ask.
Dear Willow:
I didn't lick the frog. Do you know a spell to....
...love, Xander
__
[Linkstaaaablishy! B-word-person modded with permission.]
To: wrosenberg@councilofwatchers.co.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Subject: Know What's Funner Than Drunk-Dialing Parker?
Letting a five year old Bridge (see attachment) drunk-dial Parker. Except for the drunk part. No, he didn't stay five, or this e-mail would start with "I didn't lick the frog. Do you know a spell to..."
What else? Yeah, I can send you the podcasts of not-you and me reading the news - not sure why I didn't think of it before. But I'll skip last week's. My gift to you, because I love you and I don't want you to die of alcohol poisoning.
Speaking of gifts, my anniversary with Bridge is coming up on Sunday. I'm thinking one year plus or minus eighty-five and some change is just not the Lego Anniversary, y'know? Got any ideas?
love,
Xander
bridge5.jpg
[Estaaaablishy/linkdroppy. Xander is over here if you need him!]
To: wrosenberg@councilofwatchers.co.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Subject: Know What's Funner Than Drunk-Dialing Parker?
Letting a five year old Bridge (see attachment) drunk-dial Parker. Except for the drunk part. No, he didn't stay five, or this e-mail would start with "I didn't lick the frog. Do you know a spell to..."
What else? Yeah, I can send you the podcasts of not-you and me reading the news - not sure why I didn't think of it before. But I'll skip last week's. My gift to you, because I love you and I don't want you to die of alcohol poisoning.
Speaking of gifts, my anniversary with Bridge is coming up on Sunday. I'm thinking one year plus or minus eighty-five and some change is just not the Lego Anniversary, y'know? Got any ideas?
love,
Xander
bridge5.jpg
[Estaaaablishy/linkdroppy. Xander is over here if you need him!]
Rubber-coated E-mail, Thursday Night
Nov. 16th, 2007 01:12 amTo: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
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.
love,
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.
__
To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
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!]
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
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.
love,
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.
__
To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
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!]
Rubber-coated E-mail, Thursday Night
Nov. 16th, 2007 01:12 amTo: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
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.
love,
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.
__
To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
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!]
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
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.
love,
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.
__
To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
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!]
E-Mail, Tuesday noonish
Nov. 13th, 2007 03:29 pmTo: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 11/13/2007
Tech, low: ( I refer the distinguished gentleman... )
__
To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
Subject: [message failed]
Mailbox "purplefrog" unreachable.
This may not be a permanent error.
>Tech, low: ...
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 11/13/2007
Tech, low: ( I refer the distinguished gentleman... )
__
To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
Subject: [message failed]
Mailbox "purplefrog" unreachable.
This may not be a permanent error.
>Tech, low: ...
E-Mail, Tuesday noonish
Nov. 13th, 2007 03:29 pmTo: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 11/13/2007
Tech, low: ( I refer the distinguished gentleman... )
__
To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
Subject: [message failed]
Mailbox "purplefrog" unreachable.
This may not be a permanent error.
>Tech, low: ...
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 11/13/2007
Tech, low: ( I refer the distinguished gentleman... )
__
To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: mailer-daemon@yahoo.com
Subject: [message failed]
Mailbox "purplefrog" unreachable.
This may not be a permanent error.
>Tech, low: ...
E-mail, sent late Monday night
Nov. 12th, 2007 11:38 pmTags:
- aeryn,
- alanna,
- bridge,
- e-mail,
- faith,
- isabel,
- john crichton,
- katara,
- mary connell,
- mca,
- mel,
- parker,
- plaaaaaague,
- xanderswillow,
- zero
E-mail, sent late Monday night
Nov. 12th, 2007 11:38 pmTags:
- aeryn,
- alanna,
- bridge,
- e-mail,
- faith,
- isabel,
- john crichton,
- katara,
- mary connell,
- mca,
- mel,
- parker,
- plaaaaaague,
- xanderswillow,
- zero
Interdimensional E-mail
Jun. 28th, 2007 01:07 amTo: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Date: 6/27/2007: 5:18 pm
Subject: re: This, That, Other
*poke whenever you get back from wherever you've been all week* So am I going to Hell for supplying vodka to the underaged or just for dating them? Eight out of ten underage boyfriends want to know.
love, Xander
__
To: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 6/28/2007: 2:57 am
Subject: re: re: This, That, Other
What, the gay sex and Barbie-stealing wasn't edgy enough for you? Show-off.
love, Willow
p.s. And now I shower. You do not want to know where I've been all week.
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Date: 6/27/2007: 5:18 pm
Subject: re: This, That, Other
*poke whenever you get back from wherever you've been all week* So am I going to Hell for supplying vodka to the underaged or just for dating them? Eight out of ten underage boyfriends want to know.
love, Xander
__
To: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 6/28/2007: 2:57 am
Subject: re: re: This, That, Other
What, the gay sex and Barbie-stealing wasn't edgy enough for you? Show-off.
love, Willow
p.s. And now I shower. You do not want to know where I've been all week.
Tags:
Interdimensional E-mail
Jun. 28th, 2007 01:07 amTo: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Date: 6/27/2007: 5:18 pm
Subject: re: This, That, Other
*poke whenever you get back from wherever you've been all week* So am I going to Hell for supplying vodka to the underaged or just for dating them? Eight out of ten underage boyfriends want to know.
love, Xander
__
To: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 6/28/2007: 2:57 am
Subject: re: re: This, That, Other
What, the gay sex and Barbie-stealing wasn't edgy enough for you? Show-off.
love, Willow
p.s. And now I shower. You do not want to know where I've been all week.
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com
Date: 6/27/2007: 5:18 pm
Subject: re: This, That, Other
*poke whenever you get back from wherever you've been all week* So am I going to Hell for supplying vodka to the underaged or just for dating them? Eight out of ten underage boyfriends want to know.
love, Xander
__
To: purplefrog@yahoo.com
From: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
Date: 6/28/2007: 2:57 am
Subject: re: re: This, That, Other
What, the gay sex and Barbie-stealing wasn't edgy enough for you? Show-off.
love, Willow
p.s. And now I shower. You do not want to know where I've been all week.
Tags:
MCA #0, Sunday Night (post-churchy stuff)
Apr. 22nd, 2007 11:44 pmSo, Xander is sitting in his living room with a laptop in that most surprising of places, his lap, and a long familiar Dear Willow typed on the screen in front of him. Of course, that's as far as he's got.
Because really - Dear Willow: So remember that relationship I used to have that was only slightly illegal? Well, you can cross off both the 'used to' and the 'slightly' now. Then on Sunday, our kids from the future (including my son with Parker and no, that never happened kthx) showed up. And one of them was actually ours. Mine and Bridge's. Really, seriously ours.And I'm completely in love with her. According to her (see attached), it involved a jar. I'm hoping that was five year old for 'Petri dish.' And then they left. And I miss them liek whoa. And now he wants me to meet his parents and he thinks they won't have any problem with the fact that their seventeen year old son is dating a twenty-six year old man. Also, I think I invented a new tv show. Love, Xander.
Yeeeah. He could just pre-write the reply. Dear Xander: Again with the frog-licking? Love, Willow.
So. Laptop. Lap.
Because really - Dear Willow: So remember that relationship I used to have that was only slightly illegal? Well, you can cross off both the 'used to' and the 'slightly' now. Then on Sunday, our kids from the future (including my son with Parker and no, that never happened kthx) showed up. And one of them was actually ours. Mine and Bridge's. Really, seriously ours.
Yeeeah. He could just pre-write the reply. Dear Xander: Again with the frog-licking? Love, Willow.
So. Laptop. Lap.
MCA #0, Sunday Night (post-churchy stuff)
Apr. 22nd, 2007 11:44 pmSo, Xander is sitting in his living room with a laptop in that most surprising of places, his lap, and a long familiar Dear Willow typed on the screen in front of him. Of course, that's as far as he's got.
Because really - Dear Willow: So remember that relationship I used to have that was only slightly illegal? Well, you can cross off both the 'used to' and the 'slightly' now. Then on Sunday, our kids from the future (including my son with Parker and no, that never happened kthx) showed up. And one of them was actually ours. Mine and Bridge's. Really, seriously ours.And I'm completely in love with her. According to her (see attached), it involved a jar. I'm hoping that was five year old for 'Petri dish.' And then they left. And I miss them liek whoa. And now he wants me to meet his parents and he thinks they won't have any problem with the fact that their seventeen year old son is dating a twenty-six year old man. Also, I think I invented a new tv show. Love, Xander.
Yeeeah. He could just pre-write the reply. Dear Xander: Again with the frog-licking? Love, Willow.
So. Laptop. Lap.
Because really - Dear Willow: So remember that relationship I used to have that was only slightly illegal? Well, you can cross off both the 'used to' and the 'slightly' now. Then on Sunday, our kids from the future (including my son with Parker and no, that never happened kthx) showed up. And one of them was actually ours. Mine and Bridge's. Really, seriously ours.
Yeeeah. He could just pre-write the reply. Dear Xander: Again with the frog-licking? Love, Willow.
So. Laptop. Lap.
