(no subject)
So maybe Jeff could finally understand what people were talking about when they said the island wasn't all sunshine and beaches.
In fact, there was a little while during the last month where he started outright hating it. Greendale had it's share of weirdness. It didn't, however, have a threat of space stations falling on it, nor did he have to hide from anything like it in a cave (which, for the record? Sucked). It also didn't have the ability to literally make a movie come to life - not to the extent Britta told him about her ill-advised trip to the other island, anyway. Abed could fit their lives into TV and movie tropes pretty well most days, but he wasn't that good. Suffice to say, the points were racking up in Greendale's favor, to the point he nearly - nearly - wished he was back. That the realization he missed a couple of people back home was finally sinking in didn't help his mood.
But it was a new month, and apparently the island wanted to be best pals with him again. He'd returned to his hut after the insanity had died down, tired, sore, and in need of a couple dozen more showers to feel like he was completely clean from the island's collective cave adventure. The sudden new addition to his hut became obvious the moment he stepped into his room. The dresser itself looked well made, but it was what inside of it that really got his attention.
Clothes. And not the disasters he was made to wear daily because he was pretty sure walking around naked wasn't an option. Sure, they weren't his clothes, but they were clothes he knew he'd wear - stuff that was better than he used to wear, in some cases, given his shortage on cash because of his predicament back home. The prospect of never having to fight with that box again - or not for a very long time, at least - was enough to make him forget for a while what a nightmare the last two weeks had been.
It was a couple of days later, and Jeff had an armful of clothes that he was all set to give right back to the spawn that created them. He saw no reason to keep any of it any more, given the circumstances. He had some clothes he borrowed when he first showed up to deliver as well, but he figured a visit to the clothes box first would be easiest. Carefully balancing the pile of clothes in his arms, he made his way toward the Compound, vision half-obscured by what he was carrying. He'd tried to be careful not to bump into anyone, but inevitably he happened to graze against someone who was walking in the other direction. He just barely managed to not drop some of what he was carrying.
"Sorry, all I can see is bad pastel colors right now," he joked, shifting so he could get a better look at who it was.
[Timed to late morning. Find him anywhere along the boardwalk, heading towards the Compound. Good time to meet him!]
In fact, there was a little while during the last month where he started outright hating it. Greendale had it's share of weirdness. It didn't, however, have a threat of space stations falling on it, nor did he have to hide from anything like it in a cave (which, for the record? Sucked). It also didn't have the ability to literally make a movie come to life - not to the extent Britta told him about her ill-advised trip to the other island, anyway. Abed could fit their lives into TV and movie tropes pretty well most days, but he wasn't that good. Suffice to say, the points were racking up in Greendale's favor, to the point he nearly - nearly - wished he was back. That the realization he missed a couple of people back home was finally sinking in didn't help his mood.
But it was a new month, and apparently the island wanted to be best pals with him again. He'd returned to his hut after the insanity had died down, tired, sore, and in need of a couple dozen more showers to feel like he was completely clean from the island's collective cave adventure. The sudden new addition to his hut became obvious the moment he stepped into his room. The dresser itself looked well made, but it was what inside of it that really got his attention.
Clothes. And not the disasters he was made to wear daily because he was pretty sure walking around naked wasn't an option. Sure, they weren't his clothes, but they were clothes he knew he'd wear - stuff that was better than he used to wear, in some cases, given his shortage on cash because of his predicament back home. The prospect of never having to fight with that box again - or not for a very long time, at least - was enough to make him forget for a while what a nightmare the last two weeks had been.
It was a couple of days later, and Jeff had an armful of clothes that he was all set to give right back to the spawn that created them. He saw no reason to keep any of it any more, given the circumstances. He had some clothes he borrowed when he first showed up to deliver as well, but he figured a visit to the clothes box first would be easiest. Carefully balancing the pile of clothes in his arms, he made his way toward the Compound, vision half-obscured by what he was carrying. He'd tried to be careful not to bump into anyone, but inevitably he happened to graze against someone who was walking in the other direction. He just barely managed to not drop some of what he was carrying.
"Sorry, all I can see is bad pastel colors right now," he joked, shifting so he could get a better look at who it was.
[Timed to late morning. Find him anywhere along the boardwalk, heading towards the Compound. Good time to meet him!]