bitten_notshy: ([neu] smarter than he lets on)
Jack wasn't ready to say goodbye to Kaidan. He remained quite firmly opposed to this general trend of people leaving.

But if Kaidan was going to go fight purple blobby land jellyfish --or whatever he was up to -- he deserved a decent send-off. Which was why Jack had ordered several pizzas, laid in a few kegs of Canadian lager, and sent an email to everyone he could think of who might want one more chance to hang out with Kaidan.

A bad action movie played on the TV, though the sound was quite soft, and everything was ready for a low-key party.

[OOC: If you think you were invited, you were!]
bitten_notshy: ([neu] almost never this shy)
Jack woke up on the couch in the living room, and was immediately struck by a crick in his neck that was shortly followed by overwhelming gratitude that he wasn't fourteen any more. Not that he'd even been such a bad sort of 14-year-old, but he associated the age with a kind of powerlessness he was glad to have outgrown.

And, also, it was nice to not be half-convinced the television was some sort of witchcraft. So there was that.

He sent a quick text to Emma to let her know there was no need to start chasing Sebastien down, then went into the kitchen. He rarely cooked much, but he was hungry, there was a box of blueberry muffin mix that had been in the cabinets for months and being back to himself seemed like as good a reason to celebrate by making it as any. Especially as it was too early to drink.

If it occurred to him some muffins might make a decent 'sorry I was a bit insufferable' present for a housemate who seemed to have been an exceptionally sulky teen himself ... well, that factored into it too.

[OOC: Open for weekend SP.]
bitten_notshy: ([neu] always on guard)
Jack had only planned to stay in New Amsterdam for a night or two, but two had become five as he delayed leaving the relative comforts of his own world -- and, just as importantly, of being in a city again. He'd found nothing more of note on Sebastien, though the university he had funded still stood.

Jack noticed that the campus's main library had been named after Abigail Irene Garrett. He thought it a nice touch.

But his work for Eric had piled to a point that couldn't be handled from a distance, and now he was home -- home and, as it happened, famished. He made himself a peanut butter sandwich and sniffed the air, wondering who the new presence he detected in the house would turn out to be.

[OOC: Open to housemates, calls, etc!]

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Jack Priest

January 2017

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