Prof. William Wexler (lore_warden) wrote in sum_ofall_fears,
Prof. William Wexler
lore_warden
sum_ofall_fears

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Wexler hadn’t really noticed that he’d begun to dose until his head started nodding to one side and the solid headboard pressed uncomfortably against his temple. He cracked one eyelid, glaring across the dim cabin.

Christ. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Deeming it safer to think on his feet, the Professor hopped off the lightly disturbed white sheets and paced the bed’s flank with his fingers locked behind him. Following this moment of useless rumination, he veered off and paused abruptly near the small oak table siding one wall. His gaze fell over his jacket on the chair back, and then he glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

I’m not seriously considering this, am I? He weighed the prospect of venturing outside with that of pacing the tiny room. All night. Back and forth. Almost entirely ignorant of the reason he was doing so.

Damn it.

He slipped into the bathroom to retrieve his shirt, beating the dust out to his satisfaction before pulling it on and working the buttons into place. Sweeping around the corner, he moved to pull out a chair as he settled the cord jacket across his shoulders and reached for his shoes.

Then he let himself out into the chill night. He’d have killed to know what month it was.

Things were rather quiet outside; he could see one group of four teens gathered near the office, but failed immediately to make out any conversation between them. Regardless… they seemed preoccupied. Surprise, surprise. Rather than intrude, he wandered down the long deck to examine one of the numerous vending machines lighting its walkway.

Just as he made to troll his pockets for change, Wexler’s attention was snapped up by the blinking LED display: “$0.00” Quirking a brow, he tapped a button. Sure enough, the machine whirred into life, depositing a bag of peanuts into the empty tray below. He bent to retrieve and examine the nondescript package before pocketing it. Turning, Wexler strolled up to the edge of the porch, squinting tensely into the darkness.

[Open to everyone currently outside and everyone planning to step outside. Jump in wherever.]
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