Flowers

Hey, to whoever sent me roses ... thank you for them and the lovely poem. It's absolutely perfect.

Though I am moderately freaked out by the unsigned card, since Marty says they aren't from him.

Does my secret admirer want to, like, come forward? Any theories?

Edit: They're from geoff_chaucer. Who, I hear, is available for commissioned poems at reasonable rates for homecoming.

Angela's journal, Sept. 22

[OOC: Written while Angela waits for Marty to wake up at the clinic. Private entry.]

I think every day here is weird, but this one truly deserves the label, even after the flowers.

For starters? I had lunch with Phoebe., whose recent problems kind of make mine look like nothing. We fantasized about an island without boys, but with plenty of wine, chocolate and cats.

Then Marty took me to the shooting range.

Then I accidentally shot him in the butt and had to take him to the clinic. My first time with a gun, and I manage to put someone in the clinic. I'm not sure there will be a second time.

Then -- while heavily drugged and having shrapnel scraped out of his butt -- he asked me to homecoming. This wasn't, like, my romantic fantasy, but it does seem to be how things work for us.

I said yes, but I'm not sure he heard me. Too busy passing out.

Then I somehow got roped into helping with Homecoming. I have no idea what's going on, there, but Lilly is strangely persuasive...

After the clinic, Room 304

With Marty leaning heavily on her, Angela makes her way from the clinic to her dorm room.