gocirclegogo | Introductory Temporal Transportology

[A man is stuck in the streets of London. He has an amazing I-don't-care-about-my-hair-because-that's-how-cool-I-am hairstyle, $300 dollar Italian jeans, and I dare you to ask the thread count on that shirt, the first few buttons of which have been carelessly left unbuttoned. That's right. The hipsters have arrived. Also, he is holding a blackberry.]

[Clothing aside, he is not acting all that hip. He speaks with very broad hand gestures and a moderately manic expression.]

What the hell is this? When did we go Sherlock Holmes? Abed, are you doing a 'themed episode' [he doesn't need physical air quotes: he can do it with his voice] again? Because if you are, I need to know how the hell you pulled this off so it never happens again! [He stares at his Blackberry in incredulity, and here comes the last straw.] And why isn't my phone getting any signal?

[A choked scream of frustration, and he kicks a nearby crate.] This doesn't make any sense!

[Someone stop him before he finds an axe.]

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Yeah, well, don't count your eggs before they hatch. We still have to see how this place looks once we're inside.

[more to herself than to Jeff] Not that I have room to be picky or anything.

We will have room to be picky. As soon as I'm a lawyer again.

Does that mean you are going to get your fake lawyer license thing?

[In perfect mimicry of Britta:] Duh-doy. It's not going to be harder in this place than it was in the 21st century.

[she makes a face, but then seems to be satisfied with this] Awesome. Then I get to get you one of those wigs. I wonder if carefully styled bedhead would stand up to one of those things.

I'll trendset. They'll throw those wigs right out the window. [He happens to be genuinely horrified at this thought. Maybe he can just do consulting work...]

Yes, because old-timey British people have so much respect for Americans.

They'll respect Jeff Winger. How many lawyers who fake their degrees get away with the sweet deal I did? On the courtroom floor, I am king.

All right, King Tut. But just so you know, when you get your first trial, I'm going to be front row. I want to see how well the king reigns in one of those wigs.

Edited 2012-02-20 01:24 (UTC)

I don't need my perfect hair to be awesome!

[....Not that he just had an out burst or anything. Now storming up to the advertised apartment.]

Of course you don't!

[and she runs after him, thoroughly amused despite the fact she would be horrified if the tables were reversed. But they're not, so she will just bask in his suffering]

Shut up, Britta. [Frown.] Shouldn't there be someone to show us around, or is that not what Victorians do?

How should I know? [she looks at the ad again and then around the hallway] There's probably an office around here. We just have to find it. [and Britta is going to go explore now]

Haven't you been living here for a month? Or were you too busy ingesting 'special honey' with your anarchist friends to learn anything useful?

Just because I've been living somewhere a month doesn't mean I learned their entire stupid rental system. [no comment on her activities so far. She continues looking around until she finally does find something that appears to be an office] Aha! Britta one, Winger nada. [and she will just knock on the door and enter said office as the smug victor of a game she just made up in her head called prove to Winger I know what I'm doing]

[Farrah passes over the need to RP and NPC, because she doesn't want to. But assume that not only did the NPC show them the place, but Jeff managed to somehow knock down the monthly rental price by being ridiculous and conniving.]

[That's because Farrah is the best. Even though this all benefits her, Britta will be making a sourface the entire time, judging him for what she views as his lawyering and taking advantage of the poor landlord]

Good job, Winger.

[and then a moment of realization hits her, the sourface disappearing because this is now completely real]

We're really moving in together.

[He holds up a finger.] We are residing together for the purpose of reducing living costs because we don't know anyone else. It's temporary. And anyway, what's the big deal? When you room with friends, the things you love about them become the things that make you want to smother them with a pillow. I already want to kill you half the time. We won't even be able to tell the difference.

Edited 2012-02-20 23:41 (UTC)

Smothering you with a pillow would be an improvement all around.

All right, well, one of us has to sleep on the sofa. [she puts her finger to her nose quickly] Not it!

[ldajglkjsadg] You didn't give me a chance! [Yet the laws of it are immutable.] Fine! But as soon as I'm the one paying for most of the apartment, you get the couch.

[Of course, if Jeff does make attorney and they still live together, they will be able to afford a two bedroom. Shut up.]

If you want to cry about it, you can. I'm more than happy to listen. You can even tell me how that makes you feel.

If you want a guy that cries, why don't you go to Troy? I'm sure he has a lot of emotional pain for you to get your cougar claws into.

That's really insightful. It's actually amazing that you were even able to spare a second to think about that, what with all the time you spend sticking your tongue into a teenager.

She's twenty now, I only kissed her once, and I know I shouldn't have. You went right for Troy without even thinking about his age. And we both know why. Is this psychology major extra-helpful for you when you're trying to pick out emotionally damaged guys to go after?

She wasn't twenty when you kissed her, and you kissed her twice. One of those kisses being right after two age appropriate women confessed they were in love with you.

(no subject)

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