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Post by Ian Flanagan on Apr 12, 2007 16:28:23 GMT -5
Ian walked quickly down the large corridor and ducked out the first door to his right, one of many leading to the courtyard; his headache had faded but the general feeling of something odd in his stomach had increased. He stood there looking down at the path away from the few steps he'd just come down, and turned to his left now, nearly jogging to a bench and sitting down on the edge, barely managing to not stand up again to alleviate his agitation. He was furious with Brandon; he focused on that more than anything. All Brandon's fault.
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Post by boingpop on Apr 12, 2007 16:32:50 GMT -5
Jean was laying on the fountain's basin's wall. His book, which was bent and ripped and had quite frankly been through hell, open to a page near the second half of the novel. He yawned as he turned the page, it was at this point that he heard Ian entering. He'd hoped Ian would've chosen another location to run to, he wasn't sure he knew how to help people cope, and was pretty sure he would be bad if he tried. He himself didn't do well with issues.
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Post by Ian Flanagan on Apr 12, 2007 16:43:58 GMT -5
Ian looked up and saw Jean, he had a conflicted blend of gratitude and anger. On the one hand, Jean had told Brandon to stop, on the other . . . from what Brandon had showed him . . . Jean hadn't really been any better last night. He looked at him for a while, playing bits of the newly remembered conversation over in his head and finally said, "Brandon put you up to it? Or the other way around?"
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Post by boingpop on Apr 12, 2007 16:47:36 GMT -5
Jean looked backwards over his head to see Ian. "Pardon?" He asked, still looking at him upside down. After a moment like that he decided to reposition himself in a manner that wouldn't cause brain failure. He spun himself around and now sat facing Ian. "Up to what?" He inquired as he put the book in his pocket.
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Post by Ian Flanagan on Apr 12, 2007 17:01:04 GMT -5
"I don't know exactly . . . talking to me . . . you and Brandon were chatting at the party . . ." Ian shrugged. He wanted to figure out something mundane and nonthreatening. "Were you the friend with the pills? Was that your game? What was the point? Why make a fool of me?"
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Post by boingpop on Apr 12, 2007 17:05:04 GMT -5
Jean tilted his head till it was nearly horizontal. "Whoa... Last night was the first time I'd seen the kid." He affirmed, then tilting his head back. "And I don't have any pills... and who's making a fool of you? I like scrabble... that could be a game..." Jean was a bit lost now, he'd not really understood the argument the two had and now Ian somehow thought him involved.
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Post by Ian Flanagan on Apr 12, 2007 17:14:42 GMT -5
"You don't know Brandon?" Ian said doubtfully. "He's your . . . resident advisor . . . and quite helpful," Ian finished sarcastically. "Why, without guys like Brandon I just don't know how I could get through life." The sarcasm had now spiralled out of control but he could do nothing to stop it. "Never mind," he decided, not wanting to dwell on it.
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Post by boingpop on Apr 12, 2007 17:21:35 GMT -5
"Seems like a bit of a jerk." Jean said now having stood up and turned to look at the fountain. "How is it you know him again?" He asked, having not been told a first time really. He waited for an answer and continued to watch the water in the fountain as it moved. He jammed his hands into his pockets and stood.
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Post by Ian Flanagan on Apr 12, 2007 17:39:24 GMT -5
Ian thought back, trying to remember when exactly he'd met Brandon, and suddenly he smiled widely. "Oh . . . it's just the best thing . . ." he said wickedly. "I met him at the beach . . . I was swimming with a friend and as you know, people just started showing up. And Brandon came down to the beach with breasts" Ian snickered loudly. "Got in a fight with my brother I guess . . ." Remembering Brandon's misery amused him, all things considered.
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Post by Brandon Diggorced on Apr 12, 2007 17:41:10 GMT -5
ooc:
I feel so loved ;D
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Post by boingpop on Apr 12, 2007 17:44:12 GMT -5
"See now thats not a story I could've predicted..."He said with a small laugh as he shook his head. He walked over closer to Ian and took a seat on the low wall near where he sat. "So what was all the yelling about?" He questioned wanting to know the whole story now. "Something happen?" He asked his tone not patronizing just curious.
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Post by Ian Flanagan on Apr 12, 2007 17:57:41 GMT -5
Ian shrugged, his face going stony again. "Brandon is obsessed with some crazy idea he has, okay? I don't think I want to talk about it. Every time I talk to him, he's pushing me . . . "
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Post by boingpop on Apr 12, 2007 18:01:41 GMT -5
Jean nodded and looked at his feet. "Sure, not a problem." He looked at him and smiled. He then looked ahead at the courtyard, glancing shortly at different things. After a while he shifted position now laying on the wall, he was more comfortable that way. He yawned and looked at the sky as clouds rolled past. He didn't know what to say to Ian, he was bad at this. He tried to simply ignore it now.
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Post by Ian Flanagan on Apr 12, 2007 18:06:55 GMT -5
"No, of course you weren't involved, look at you . . . you're not pushy at all," Ian said appreciatively. He sighed. "So we talked last night, did we? Interesting. I think I made a fool of myself at that bonfire . . . and damn Brandon for making me remember it; that's not fair; the whole side benefit of getting drunk enough to act like an ass is not remembering it either." He laughed lightly and shrugged. "Jerk."
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Post by boingpop on Apr 12, 2007 18:22:53 GMT -5
"It does have its benefits..." He agreed, he stiffened a bit- Ian would have remembered their conversation if Brandon reminded him of the night- He swallowed and sat up. "Theres got to be some out there I guess." He added as he ran his fingers through his hair fixing it before sliding off the wall. He stretched his arms back and yawned again. "He kind of makes me sleepy..." Jean mused thinking about it, "Hes not a particularly interesting character... I could be wrong- I don't really know him..." He yawned cutting off his own train of through. He slid his wand from his back pocket, and used it to scratch the back of his head. He looked back to Ian as if just realizing he was still there. "er-" He slid the wand back, he wasn't good at talking to people when there wasn't a topic that could be held.
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