Sunday 1.4 Boredom

[fireun.livejournal.com]

(OOC- so, Schu here. if i am reading the whole posting thingy right, i am following format. if i am not, please let me know so i dont keep mucking it up!)

Schuldich flicked television channels with the intensity of either a butterfly on amphetamines or someone who wasn’t really watching television to watch. It was noise. It was half of a distraction

Schuldich was trying to avoid mustering the energy to go and seek out the other half of a distraction. Preferably something that contained caffeine and was brought to him by someone entertaining.

Boredom was a terrible state of existence.

Maybe he could convince Crawford to invest in order out lattes. They would be all the rage.

The couch cushion he was lounging on had a lump. And that was the least of his current complaints.

It hadn’t been his idea to wake up in time to catch the kiddie shows that aired in that useless bit of time between breakfast and lunch. In a perfect world he would be asleep until his sloth pissed someone off. Then, having been woken up, he could muster all the self righteous indignation necessary to make a Sunday interesting.

His grand plans had been ruined by the histrionics of the barely teenaged wench across the street. Apparently everyone had to know how distressed she was that Big Blond and Handsome had decided to date Big Breasted and Slutty instead of her. Why couldn’t females rail against unkind fate at a decent hour?

The next person who walked through the living room was going to make him coffee. Only that, and not having to do it himself, would placate his lethargic ire.

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[lilymoon1.livejournal.com]

Crawford paused outside Nagi's door to shoot a glinty glasses glare at Schuldig. It was pointless as the telepath was already out the door.

Dinner?

Crawford pinched the bridge of his nose hard. He could feel the threads of control slipping through his fingers. It seemed the tighter he squeezed, the more they slipped.

Crawford was *pissed*. Along with the control, he felt a lessening of respect, at least they way it used to be. That thought was enough to give him pause. Did he really want things the way they used to be? Did he want to garner respect through fear? Hadn't they fought to free the entire team from just that very thing? He had some thinking to do.

Dinner. Schuldig would get his dinner along with the rest of them. Perhaps it was time to change tactics.

An idea blossomed and along with it a truly snarky smirk to rival his usual. Dinner should be interesting. Dessert would be the deciding factor.