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]

//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.