Stark Industries | Saturday

[dollpocalypse]

Having spent the past week ravenously catching up on all the technology time he'd missed out on over the break, today at Stark Industries Topher was... still catching up on technology time. But given the fact that he was being paid to do it while within these walls, today it was more reasonable than usual. Someone had commissioned a kind of magnetic hat that could reduce hair static, so magnetic hat-making it was. Even if Topher was kind of smirking at whoever's weird, dumb idea that was. Seriously.

Caritas, Saturday

[hatesmoststuff.livejournal.com]

April wasn't hungover today -- hungover would imply that she'd been full-on drunk yesterday, which she hadn't been. She'd been tipsy, and she personally thought that it had contributed positively to her performance as Reverend Dr. Chausible Whateverthehell, thank you. Priests snuck wine sometimes, right?

Hungover or not, though, she did have a headache, and the zombies' insistence on playing nothing but loud, dated preteen pop wasn't helping. If April heard another Hannah Montana song played at full volume by a zombie with only one arm, she was going to start throwing bottles, probably.

The Boards, Saturday

[furnaceface]

The state of affairs at the Boards this morning was a bit of a mess.

No, that was an understatement. There was a heap of waffles in the lobby that Jono had more or less snow-shoveled off the stage, drunkenly, at about four that morning. Next to the heap, a very satisfied-looking gremlin was dozing, dreaming for reasons known only to gremlins about combining the flavours of chicken and waffles, possibly in potato chip format. There were a few empty bottles strewn about, and then there was another pile, this one consisting of costumes drenched with syrup that Jono needed to go through later to see if any of them could possibly be salvaged.

Jonothon himself hadn't actually made it up to his apartment last night. He was in his office, with everything from his desk shoved unceremoniously to the floor (computer-turned-paperweight included), passed out face-first right there on top of it.

There might have been drooling.

There was definitely going to be a hangover.

He'd worry about all of those things when he bloody well felt like it, thank you.

[Open and flying without OCD, as usual!]