chasingangela: (Default)
Angela had been procrastinating. That was why it was almost 10 p.m. Saturday and she still hadn't given out any Christmas presents or finished packing for her journey to her parents' house the next day.

But there were two big piles on her bed; one of clothes, the other of presents. Stop by, and she might give you a gift. Or else draft you to help pack. It's all the same, right?
chasingangela: (dorky smile)
After the movie and a long, long walk through town and down to the beach, Angela and Marty finally made it back to the dorms.

By this point she's tipsy and giggling and has removed her shoes, and is gripping them with one hand while she drags her boyfriend with the other. "SHHHH," she says, a little too loudly, as she fumbles with the lock on her dorm room door. "Ev'rybody's asleep."
chasingangela: (thinky thinky)
Angela had decided that action had some chance of getting her out of her mope. She certainly wasn't going to apologize to Marty, not yet, maybe not ever.

Glancing around the room, she realized that if she shoved Sydney's old dresser into the closet, she'd have room to move her chair further away from the bed, and her not-huge dorm room would feel slightly less not-huge.

She stood with her back to the wall to try to lift the dresser so she could carry it across the room, completely oblivious to any strange sounds.
chasingangela: (the way we were)
So there had been more goodbyes and some post-goodbye recovery, and time to be emo and talk to Marty, Nadia and new boy JD on the roof. Angela was mostly happy to be alone with her thoughts as she laid back on her bed.

Feeling like she should at least do something mildly productive, she opened Marty's borrowed laptop and checked her e-mail )

...and it reminded her of a whole new set of people she had to miss. She stared glumly out the window into the night.

[OOC: Mostly for Marty. This has been such an emo week.]
chasingangela: (running)
Minerva believed it was time for breakfast, and was meowing loudly into Angela's ear to communicate this belief.

Angela believed she had finished junior year and managed to almost completely avoid the scary new people the day before, and thus it was her right to sleep in. To communicate this belief, she was thwapping at the cat with one forearm, trying to shove her off the bed without opening her eyes.
chasingangela: (dorky smile)
Angela was still blushing when she came up to her room after talking to Xander and Callisto at the brunch.

She also wondered exactly how stupid she had looked about the whole scrapbooking thing.

Sometime after she called Marty, though, she started giggling, and couldn't stop. It had been a very long week...

[OOC: Mostly for Marty, but if you need her, she's here.]
chasingangela: (little black mess)
Back from a walk around the still-snowy campus, Angela threw herself onto her bed and turned the music up, LOUD.

The last few days had been kind of rough. On Friday, after she found out Rory was attacked, she talked to Parker about it in the library and begged her way onto the team to go turn the vampires into dust. While that was still vibrating through her mind, she ran into Marty and had a tense conversation. Working with Lee and Xander in art class had only slightly improved her mood.

With a storm trapping her at the school, she had hung out in the common room Friday night, when she and Marty reached a truce and Parker told her the mission was for fighters and superheroes only, normal girls need not apply. She hated that, but reluctantly saw Parker's point -- more so after she talked to Angel, too, and he seemed just as certain the mission was no place for humans.

And that was before the snow monsters attacked. She had thrown boiling oil, burning textbooks, and ramen noodles at the things, and was happy to watch them melt; but now, tired and with a burned hand, she would be just as happy at a school without monsters, thanks.

At least the victory party had been fun.

And now there was an invitation stuck under her door. She turned it over in her fingers as she stared into space.

[OOC: Open to all.]
chasingangela: (Face)
After a morning spent scraping gook out of the mini-fridge in the assistant's lounge, all Angela wants is a nice, hot shower. That, and possibly some time in a decontamination ward.

There isn't a decontamination ward on the floor, so she settles for the shower. Unfortunately, after she steps out of the shower, she's confronted by the pile of stuff she got at IKEA.

The bedspread is easy enough to put on the bed; so are the lamp and the new posters. But the bookshelf and the chair?

She hopes someone will help her put them together before she breaks either the furniture or herself.

[OOC: Her door is open. Come bug her.]
chasingangela: (charms)
Angela noticed several things when she woke up Friday morning.

The first was that Min had decided perching on her chest and staring at her was the best way to speed kibble distribution. "I'm on to you," she muttered sleepily, then winced as she noticed a second thing, which was: It hurt to mutter. Her head hurt too, and trying to take a dep breath tipped her into a coughing fit. And either gremlins had been jamming silly putty up her nostrils, or she had the stuffed nose of all time.

She pours the cat food into the bowl and searches her room for cold medicine and orange juice. At least I don't have class or work today, except the library...

On the plus side, the snow outside is very pretty. It gives her something to look at in between sneezing fits.

She makes two phone calls before collapsing back into bed.

[OOC: Gone until Sunday. Angela and I offer mad applause to everyone involved in the pageant as she withdraws to her sickbed.]
chasingangela: (happy)
Angela is no longer the Incredible Christmas Tree Girl, but she has added Wonka's to her list of places to never eat from in Fandom.

She's sprawled on her bed, making her 15th attempt at writing a sestina for poetry class.

[OOC: For [livejournal.com profile] oatmanspatient, but anybody can come bug her.]
chasingangela: (emo redhead)
Angela comes up to her room Sunday to find that Sydney's side of the room has been completely cleared out. The walls are bare, her dresser and desk are empty, and even the carpet looks like it has been vacuumed into a neat zigzag pattern.

She carefully inspects the empty space, finding absolutely nothing. (Though Min does seem to enjoy the greater number of surfaces to play on.) Shrugging, she calls Dean Bristow before setting in to some studying.

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Angela Chase

May 2015

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