Envy Adams (
whenshewasnice) wrote2012-05-01 05:32 pm
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From Rooms 216 and 223 to Room 227, Tuesday Afternoon
It had taken quite a while from the first conversation to actually putting a plan into action, but this afternoon, Natalie and Sam were finally moving into a shared room. For convenience, they'd put in a request (well, Natalie had – she was more particular about where she lived) for another room on the floor they were already on, so the distance wasn't too great.
Which was good because Natalie was finding she had far more stuff than she'd realized. It was taking several round trips to get it all moved, in particular all her books and comics and sheet music. But also clothes.
Did she really have this many clothes? She was shaking her head at it while she was picking up a box filled with them to take two doors over.
[ooc: Open to the fellow mover, former roomies, and random people in the hallway! So, everyone, basically.]
Which was good because Natalie was finding she had far more stuff than she'd realized. It was taking several round trips to get it all moved, in particular all her books and comics and sheet music. But also clothes.
Did she really have this many clothes? She was shaking her head at it while she was picking up a box filled with them to take two doors over.
[ooc: Open to the fellow mover, former roomies, and random people in the hallway! So, everyone, basically.]
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Sam gave her a little smile before he flopped backwards on the bed and sighed. Moving was hard work, okay?
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He paused and chewed on his lower lip.
"This is serious. We're serious."
And he liked it.
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By her standards, too, this was pretty serious.
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She said it like a joke, but it was probably true, too.
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Hey, he had no reason to get up. He'd just be happy lazing about until he figured out something to do.
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And maybe she'd organize her books next...
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He was a slacker. It was what he did best and he would continue doing it for awhile.
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She needed a new shelf.
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Yep.
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She went and closed the door, too. For no real reason other than that they had their own door to close, now.
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No, she hadn't left.
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Well, quiet save for that.
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She pressed a few seemingly random keys, just to warm up.
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It was slower and, frankly, eerier than the original (not to mention being adapted for the keyboard alone) but maybe he'd recognize it all the same.
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If he got to listen to her play the keyboard often, he was gonna chalk it up as another benefit of living together. It was looking more and more like the pros outweighed the cons (or the con which was the whole ghost thing).
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