Characters: Jeff Sloper and Cynthia Flint When: 23 October Where: Clocktower Courtyard, Lunch Summary: Discussing the merits of journalism in the current day. Warnings: SFW probably... Status: Incomplete.
This was getting out of hand. He needed to take control of things. This includes, but is not limited to: his public perceptions (Wilkes was at it again, and so apparently was that shit of a paper WoW), his sport (if Bell was going to be a shit captain, so be it, but he's gonna do his best to make up for it>, and his loyalties. Prophet vs. Hogport? Vs. WoW even? That was easy. Prophet. Always. But, as he layered, it was also Family vs. Friends. And he cared about all of them equally. And there was also his friendship vs. public perceptions because of WoW. I mean, it wasn't even all that accurate. Sure, it had somehow hit the nail on the head that he was a poofter, but he had never really thought about Fabian that way. I mean, he had almost told his mate last year. But because he trusted him. And could he betray that trust in the face of harsh scrutiny? And that moment at the pitch was brilliant, maybe almost too much for simple friends. Even so, the endless matches in his head of conflicting ideologies racked his brain like bludgers ricocheting inside his skull, the answer whizzing around like the sightless snitch and just out of reach.
He ate very quickly and by himself. Since the issue was published, he tried his hardest to make a good cover, especially to Wilkes, but he was so incredibly drawn back into his head that he was an awful conversation for the time being. After downing the remainder of his pomegranate juice, he headed someplace to kill time before Charms. he thought about swinging by the pitch...would he be there again.... but ultimately decided the Clock Tower courtyard was far closer to his classroom. He didn't want to be late.