Emancipated and Quite Capable

"Hello, this is Jack. I can't reach my phone right now. Leave a message and I'll return it soon. Good day."

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In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.

Jack hadn't intended to move in with Emma quite yet. But as his friends left, the island started feeling less like home. And as the island felt less like home, he was less inclined to excuse its inconveniences. (Eggnog out of the faucet was much less charming the tenth time around.) So he'd started spending more time in New York, where the only problem he ever had in the shower was when a slayer-in-training "borrowed" his shampoo.

When he found himself regularly skipping work at the Devil's Nest with the excuse nobody really wanted to drink on a Monday night, he had to admit it was time for a change.

It was his last semester in law school; arranging an internship near Emma's house and a class schedule that would let him commute to Baltimore once a week or so was trivial. So he gave Eric two weeks notice. (Tiny seemed happy.) And when the time came to renew his lease on the house in Fandom, he didn't.

Emma would never be so needy as to admit she wanted him there. But she not only hadn't kicked him out, she had even cleared a little space in her closet for him. That, more than the wedding magazines hidden deep in her bookshelf, reassured him that they were playing for keeps.

After he unpacked his home office, he sat down at the desk to send a few emails and make some calls with the news. It might be nice if people knew where he lived.

[OOC: Open for calls, texts, etc. If you think you got a message from him, you did.]

Jack knew it was the day after prom, and he'd held his breath after he'd heard that morning's broadcast -- but, luckily, no children had showed up. (Yet.)

It was still possible he'd get called to bail the triplets out on shoplifting charges, but -- until and unless that happened -- he was going to sit at home, and enjoy a cup of tea and a new superhero series on Netflix. There weren't enough lawyer heroes.

[OOC: Mainly for one but open.]

Jack's Saturday had begun the same way as all his days did lately: He blearily squinted at his screeching alarm, checked his email, and then went back to whatever legal text he'd dropped by the side of his bed before falling asleep.

It turned out that law school was hard. Which he'd been told, but somehow he'd imagined he'd be immune from everyone else's experiences. He frowned hard at the page in front of him, willing the text to resolve itself into something he could follow in any language he knew.

"I wish I didn't have anything to do," he said aloud, because at some point after Kaidan moved out he'd turned into the type of person who talked to himself. "Just one weekend off, someplace nice, with Emma. That's what I wish for."

There was a flash of light and a whirring noise, and suddenly Jack was in the fanciest hotel room he'd ever seen -- all white, with a plush rug an inch thick over polished hardwood floors. The bed he sat on was as big and soft as a cloud. And even better, he wasn't the only one on it. He poked the lump under the blankets beside him.

"Emma, the island's being weird in our favour this time...."

[OOC: For she who is mentioned, please!]

With Derek still occupied in Beacon Hills, Jack saw no reason not to play lone wolf (as it were) this full moon.

He went as deep into the preserve as he could manage, shedding his clothes and his human worries along the way. The panoply of new sights and scents meant that he barely noticed the pain of the transformation. By the time the golden moon was overhead, Jack was gone and the wolf was in his place.

Far from any path trodden by human feet, Jack threw his head back and howled.

[OOC: Open if you don't mind SP due to sleep!]

After he got back to the island, Jack spent most of the day Saturday parked in front of intentionally bad TV. It was easier not to think about what had happened in Beacon Hills if he was staring at Kardashian Kleavage. He went to bed early, fell into a dreamless sleep.

Sunday had promised more of the same until he checked his school email and realized his midterms were during the coming week. He groaned and turned on his laptop. Werewolf angst could wait: Right now, he had to pull a half-decent paper on the Bayeaux tapestry together if he had any hope of passing the last class for his major.

[OOC: Open to visits, calls, etc.]

The moon was full in Glacia as well as in Fandom, and this time Jack's curse had traveled with him to his younger form.

Luckily, there were still more than a few adult magic-users in the house who could seal a werewolf cub behind a barrier that kept him from hurting anyone. (Himself included: Someone hadn't quite learned not to pick fights with anything bigger than he was, and tiny needle puppy teeth weren't as much defense as one might like.)

If the room he happened to be sealed in -- and was therefore likely to chew to bits by morning -- was one of the most dreadfully overdecorated in the entire house, that was entirely by design.

[OOC: Establishy and NFB. Estate modded with kind permission of glacial_queen.]

Jack wasn't in his office much.

Or, really, ever.

But he had to teach tomorrow, and between being a terrier puppy and being a werewolf, he had a lot to catch up on if he wanted his class to be halfway useful. He busied himself at his computer, typing up his thoughts on how to interview witnesses without seeming like you were doing it.

[OOC: Open office hours.]

After that delightful werewolf singalong, Jack went back to his room. He planned to lie on his bed with his eyes closed and concentrate very hard on not singing anything.

He succeeded on the lying down with his eyes closed. He failed on not singing.

"You won't admit you love me.
And so how am I ever to know?
You only tell me
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
A million times I ask you,
And then I ask you over again.
You only answer
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps... "

[OOC: For one, please!]