Fray-Adjacent

The weeks leading up to and following graduation had been... busy was not the word. Or well, it was one of the words, along with eventful, Fandomtastic, scary, heart-stopping, sad, worrying, nostalgia-inducing, work-filled, relieving, newsy, romantic, and occasionally MA-rated. Some of which weren't words, but whatever. It all added up to Xander not having had a chance to just flop down and vegetate in front of the tv for quite a while.

So.

Space Battles. He was almost up to the metal bikini.

[OOC: For the BFF. Will also be a linkdrop soonish, la.]

It'd been one of those weekends. If by that you mean "those weekends you dream about and then wake up promising yourself never to touch runny cheese at a college mixer ever, ever again."

Still, he had a guest, of sorts, and he might as well show her that he did something besides Apartment Managing, without showing her the other thing he did besides Apartment Managing. Which was why they were currently in the elevator heading for the roof of the building.
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[OOC: for the parental unit! B-word-person also welcome laterwards, if desired.]

To: wrosenberg@councilofw.co.org.uk
From: purplefrog@yahoo.com

( Dear Willow )

Xander is typing an e-mail. As you do.

( Dear Willow: )

Well, ok, Xander is staring at the screen with his finger poised over the delete key. But that's sort of like typing, right?
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[OOC: For the Space Cadet who doesn't wear yellow. Not that Xander doesn't love her too. Just not in the same way. Really, really not in the same way.]