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Sunday, October 17th, 2010
| Time | Event |
| 1:40p | Raiding The Fridge! The man couldn't sneak, so he didn't try. The 6 foot, 1 inches tall, well muscled frame of Damon Baird made its way down the halls with a smirk on his face. Indeed, the smirk had a slight element of a leer. The light of the low moon glinted off the blue lenses of the goggles perched atop his head. The light gray tracksuit was, as usual, a little tight, but Baird didn't pay attention. He glanced at the clock. Alright! Ten past midnight... think I'm gonna have a snack! Man, they have more chocolate here then I've had in my life!!! Ahh yes, Chocolate. The precious joy where the COG keeps increasing the rations from thirty to twenty grams. Those memories threatened to wipe the scowl off his face. He pushed them out of his head as he remembered the tastes... even what was considered mundane food here drove him wild. He sauntered into the kitchen with a large leer. His battle-roughened finger moved along the wall until it found and flipped the light switch. |
| 7:11p | Neverending Robot Story (for Mastermind) Kurt shut the last drawer with a satisfied smile. Up to now, he had not had the time to check if everything in his room was in place. The furniture was the same, at least. Were a Pirates of the Carribean poster was supposed to be, there was one of Indiana Jones, but aside from that, the decoration over his desk was intact. Most of his possessions still existed, too, nothing really important missing, aside from a few soft-cover books he aquired on airports and two t-shirts, which were rather random objects to be gone I guess if every possible dimension exists, the differences can't always be as profund as they were in most other dimensions I visited. Now came more relevant research. Kurt put his laptop on the pillow and sat down on his bed. The blanket was crumpled at his feet, and Kurt still had a bedhead, though his locks and fur were damp from showering. He was wearing a black turtleneck pullover and old jeans, and his tail was playing with an extra rosary he had found (the only other difference) as he logged into the X-Men database. Like usually, he sat bend over, knees drawn to his chest like a gargoyle. His back was turned to the half-opened door as he searched for all available information on Sentinels. If the Sentinels weren't murderous weapons of mutant mass destruction, I'd feel a sense of comfort that, even though we're in a different dimension, we'll fight them just like every other Tuesday. Current Mood:  cynical |
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