Emancipated and Quite Capable

Jack hadn't really slept after getting back from his date with Emma. He'd taken a token nap, but in the end the excitement got to him. By seven, he was dressed and his possessions had been boxed neatly. (He had no idea how he'd acquired so many things in just over a year, but he had.)

He had a few hours before his portal left, so he rested on his bare mattress, reading the book Ms. Cabot had given him as a way of focusing his mind away from his nerves. He'd have Sebastien in his new world; nothing could go too far wrong.

The door to the room was open.

[OOC: Last post in Fandom! If you think he would have told you when he was leaving, he did.]

Jack had every reason to be happy as he made it back to his room after a quick trip into town to buy coffee and pick up his mail. It was a lovely spring day, and there were no children -- his own, or shrunken versions of his classmates and teachers -- about. He was profoundly grateful for this; children were fine, but he'd gotten his fill of babysitting.

He was mildly curious as to why the change had passed him by, but mostly he was simply thankful for that. No one needed to see the silent, wounded boy he had been. Besides, he hadn't spoken English as a small child, and he doubted he would have been able to find anyone to explain things to him in Czech or Yiddish.

But that was not at the top of his head as he returned to his room, not when the mail had brought good news for him. Sebastien had already telegraphed that he'd be at graduation on Saturday; now he had a letter from Rivka as well, confirming she'd asked for and received the time off to visit him. (And, she wrote, no, Jan, don't send money for a coach.) He'd have to talk to both of them about his final plans to stay in this time -- he'd been dancing around the subject -- but he was optimistic enough to believe that wouldn't go too badly. (He'd badger Sebastien into coming with him. He had to.)

He was grinning as he flopped onto his bed with a novel, door open so he could watch the traffic in the hall.

[OOC: Open room post!]

Jack woke up as the sun rose, but he was in no hurry to get out of bed. He had what he assumed was a pleasant but strange dream still playing through his head and no classes for hours.

Besides, bed was a good place to be. There was someone in it with him.

In a moment, he'd figure out why it was extremely odd that the figure had dark hair; for now, he just rolled toward the warmth and snuggled in.

[OOC: For She Who Sadly Is Not Running Off to New York With Him. Set before this, 'cause that's how we roll.]

Jack's day had been very full, between detention, a movie with Emma, and ... other entertainment with Andy. After his roommate (and his green "friend") left, he laid on his bed with the door closed, not really thinking, just staring into space.

Either the paint swirls were more fascinating than he had ever noticed, or he was still a little baked.

[OOC: For that short girl.]

Jack had stumbled through the portal home from Vancouver so late it was almost morning again, and he slept correspondingly late in the morning. He had responsibilities -- people to check in with -- but at the moment, his body needed sleep far more.

When he stumbled out of bed, his eyes went down to his feet and then up to his face in the mirror, and he let out a disbelieving and oddly high-pitched laugh. A girl? Really?

He was sure, somehow, this was all Merlin and Tony's fault -- there'd been a lot of untrained magic thrown around yesterday, and such things could lead to odd consequences. He just hadn't expected consequences to be spelled b-r-e-a-s-t-s.

Running a hand through his tangled hair, Jack decided to take a moment to make himself presentable and then go to find one of his cohorts from the trip to see if they were similarly affected.

[OOC: Door closed, post open. Also, girl!Jack's name is Dora Hiller, and she's basically some random scene kid somebody on IJ decided to icon. Isn't she pretty?]

Stupid stupid stupid new director. Jack hoped Geoffrey would be back soon from wherever he'd buggered off to, or play practice would become yet more unbearable.

His irritation was strong enough that it gave him something to think about other than vampires and coma victims for the first time in days. With a disgruntled sigh, he settled at his desk with a copy of the play to go over his lines just once more.

[Expecting one, but door is as open as the post!]

When Jack decided he was going to do something, he usually made it happen, and the sheer perversity of technology be damned. And so it was that he came to spend Monday night relaxed on his bed, Count Orlok playing on a portable DVD player propped on a pillow in front of him.

It wasn't so different from the films he'd seen at home, really. Just .... longer. Longer and darker and who could possibly think vampires looked like that? But the plot was easy enough to follow once he recognized Stoker's novel. A tad ridiculous, but still easy to follow, and not much like Darkest Night at all.

He idly scratched notes on a tablet as he watched. He might claim they were for Mitchell or for Sebastien, but mostly they were for himself. The door was cracked so he could see people coming and going in the hallway, even though he had no reason to expect visitors.

[OOC: Open room post, yep. Nosferatu being out of copyright is WIN -- unless you're one of Murnau's heirs, of course.]

Jack was still in a brilliant mood when he finally made it back to his room and started straightening things for Tony's visit -- not that things were so untidy to start with. He wasn't Worf, he'd had a wonderful time with Rose the day before, and the building was full of people he'd like to get to know better.

Once his side of the room was neat enough to suit him, he pulled the works of Demosthenes out of his knapsack and settled on his bed to read. Philosophy would never be his first interest, but he had made a promise, and it helped to pass the time.

[OOC: Door cracked, post open. Tony thread NWS.]