Claudia Donovan (
notmyownage) wrote2010-09-26 03:22 pm
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Room 317, Sunday afternoon
Claudia's side of the room had been even more taken over with random electronics than usual. She was about halfway through putting together an intelligent light for the new theater director, and kept having to reign herself in from trying to make it too complicated. It was hard enough getting everything lined up in a reasonably compact casing without trying to throw in an excess of pattern storage. Turned out, manipulating light was kind of hard.
She'd probably welcome an interruption at this point, before her brain exploded.
[ooc: door is closed, post is open.]
She'd probably welcome an interruption at this point, before her brain exploded.
[ooc: door is closed, post is open.]
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"Fine then!" he snorted as the stupidity of the situation caught up with him. "So you didn't mind?"
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It was a different question. Honestly!
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Really, really well.
"Maybe."
Splendidly.
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"Is it my shirt? Am I wearing a bad shirt?"
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Digging around the junkyard was romantic, right?
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"So which one would you like best?" he asked.
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Look, she hadn't really done this before.
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That was so weird to say.
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"I'd have to check with the owner, but how does next weekend sound?" he asked.
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