withoutverona: (very very close)
This was an unusual sort of Friday night for Romeo: Lying on his bed, book on retail management open in front of him, rapidly emptying bag of mixed hard candies readily at hand where his cigarettes would have once sat.

Eighteen, it turned out, was a very innocent age.

He took some notes on pricing in his leather-bound journal, pausing as he turned the page to wonder what the citizens of Verona would make of the scene. No doubt they'd think him mad.

Perhaps he was, a gentle, dull kind of madness.

It wasn't so bad.

[OOC: Door cracked and knockable.]
withoutverona: (smoking so beautiful)
After saying goodbye to Mel and finishing his shift at work, Romeo hurried across the causeway onto Santorini. He had late dinner plans he didn't want to miss.

He ordered an ouzo with raspberry syrup and lemonade.

It was good.

He ordered a second, and was about to start on his third as he surveyed the crowd.

[OOC: NFB due to distance.]
withoutverona: (most sensitive boy)
Romeo probably should have been sleeping in. After all, he didn't have to go to detention this week (and the king-quest-newt thing was still weird, no matter how he thought about it).

But for no particular reason he was up early, reflecting on his week as he flipped through a certain notebook. He'd spent some quality time with Yurika, helped dress Rikku twice (in a not-dirty way), gotten killed at paintball, discussed ladies and tigers in ethics class, and encountered (and mocked, and danced with) girls-who-were-boys.

He was glad, too, that things seemed to be going better for certain friends.

Most of the vocabulary in the notebook, like that in the book he'd found at the library, struck Romeo as useful but boring, but he smiled when he found one phrase and read it aloud slowly. "Kimite hontoni kirei dane."

Starting with compliments never hurt.

[OOC: Mostly linkdrop but door closed, post open.]
withoutverona: (X marks the spot)
Romeo spent the hours around lunch fighting with the washing machines. Rather proud of himself for only turning half the whites gray -- and for having the patience to keep from tugging the sodden clothes out of the dryer too early -- he carried the laundry bag of clean clothes up to his room, dumped it at the foot of his bed, and called it good before turning on his laptop.

And then he wrote an email home (that, not so coincidentally, looked much like a linkdrop) )

The door was open.

[OOC: Oooooopen.]


withoutverona: (Default)
Romeo Montague

August 2012

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