Toffee B2, Friday Morning

[apocalipped]

Jonothon woke up this morning, deciding that being 19 was going to be infinitely better than being 18 had been, and so he was in a relatively good mood, at least compared to his usual. Perhaps he'd take his guitar out around to the campfire, in fact, so that he could muddle his way through a few songs, even if they were going to have to be unplugged.

His good mood fell a few notches when he realized that his guitar wasn't there. And in its place was an individual who wore enough leather to make Jonothon look tame, with a mane of wild red hair.

And that individual was eyeing him expectantly.

"Play me?"

...

//Remind me sometime today to go out and buy an acoustic.//

[Open for friends and cabinmates and anyone else who wants to visit Jono, sure.]

Comments

[furnaceface]

Jono nodded knowingly.

//I blame it on Fender bein' an American make,// he decided.

Because clearly, that made all of the difference.

[trigons_child]

"English guitars would be more well-behaved?" Raven said, amused.

[furnaceface]

//Naturally, luv.// No, there wasn't so much as an iota of doubt in Jono's mind about it. Jono had faith in England.

It was a thing.

//I don't think I'll hold it against my Stratocaster too much,// he added, graciously. //I'll decorate him up with th'Union Jack when he turns back, and all will be right with th'world again.//

That was him joking.

[trigons_child]

"Until he turns human once again and complains to you about it," Raven teased. "Endlessly."

[furnaceface]

//Well, I think it would be a good look for him,// Jono replied, smirking over at Strat as the guitar made faces- Jono was fairly sure that Strat was making faces, anyhow- behind his mask. //It might serve as a reminder about what happens to ill-behaved guitars who need to learn some manners.//

And now Strat was making retching noises. Because he could.