whenshewasnice: (Find me in the matinee.)
Natalie had a busy day. Quelle surprise. There'd been a package waiting for her when she'd gotten back to her apartment from various appointments and meetings and things. She hadn't had time to check it out immediately. Emails had taken precedence, and as she'd hoped a package like that was likely to be something nice, she'd been fine to wait to open it.

But by now, she had. And the first thing she realized was that it was a care package, from her parents. She hand't thought she'd exhibited any glaring signs of homesickness in talking to them a couple of days ago, but... Guess they knew. Inside were a few general things they knew she couldn't get where she was, and those were nice, but they weren't what drew her attention.

That honour went to a stack of postcards.

They were old, a little worn out at the edges, a little less the exact colour they'd been when they'd been new. They were those touristy postcards, from various Canadian cities (and a few from abroad), sent by her parents to her from their various individual work-related travels over the years. Neither of her parents had ever been away from home for more than a few days, and they'd always beat the postcards home. It had almost been a game.

She'd had the cards on her bedroom wall when she'd been younger. They didn't make her cry right now, honest. But she definitely went to put them on her bedroom wall. Again.

[ooc: NFB, but open for all the usual stuff, you already know this.]
whenshewasnice: (Did you want something?)
A few days now, and still no word about Sam. About, notfrom. Natalie was not expecting him to call her if –– when he'd turn up again. But his friends would. And they hadn't. And so, Natalie was getting increasingly anxious, as well as annoyed. She had issues with things being beyond her control to begin with, and this was just making it worse.

She'd already spent her morning at the arcade, getting some of her frustration out by playing fighting games, and ridding herself of some excess energy with DDR, soaking up all the flashing lights and beeping sounds that usually made her feel a little more at home. In town, in her skin, whatever.

But she was back already. Her room was cleaner than it had ever been before already, and her closet and dresser had all been sorted out, so... She attacked the furniture. Figuratively. She moved her keyboard to the other side of the room. Then, she pushed apart the two desks that had been forming one unit in the corner for the past year or so. ... And then, having looked at them for a moment, pushed them back together again. Damn Jace and his eye for interior decorating.

Mr. Moxy was finding this very confusing.

[ooc: Open post, half-open door!]

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