Jono Starsmore

It hadn't been as bad a week as Jonothon had anticipated, being back to the grind with classes and all. Sure, there had been a ridiculous number of sunshiney, happy things on Sunday in the library. And he'd kind of lapsed into talk of graduation and what was to come after it while speaking with Raven, which had been... kind of troubling. Yesterday had been alright. Today had been ridiculously quiet thus far. But his week overall? Not terrible.

Which, in Jonothon-ese, meant that it was about as good as could be expected, really.

For the time being, he had a kitten to distract himself with, and he was doing so by flicking guitar picks across the room and letting her chase them down. What he hadn't been expecting was the hiss and yowl combo as Joni chased one under the bed. What he'd been expecting even less was the green thing, full of pointed teeth and frothing a little at the mouth, that had launched itself at him and buried those nasty teeth of its right up to the gums in his hand when he'd gone to investigate.

But he'd only really worried about that for a few moments, of course, before the venom kicked in.

//Oh, what an adorable pretty little kitty!!//

Joni was suddenly regretting not hanging out under the bed with the gremlin and just being besties.

[Establishy!]

The dance? Had been nice. Nice in that sort of, 'I am here, I am not being particularly social, but I have a lovely date and I'm going to enjoy this, damn it,' kind of way that Jono was so good at. But that much social interaction was tiring, to say the least, and so he was absolutely planning on spending his Saturday in bed. And it would be great, and to hell with anything in the world that thought that he was going to be getting up, at least until late afternoon.

It was possible that Jonothon was slightly delusional, yes.

[For wee ones, roomies, whatever!]

Jono hadn't exactly taken his sweet time getting back to the dorms after his return to his island, so much as he'd been held up in the hell that was Portalocity security thanks to a passport photo that showed a Jonothon Starsmore who had a lower jaw and was distinctly less on fire. He was vaguely aware that people had opted to stay in Kaeleer a little longer, to make certain that Karla was doing alright, to make certain that they were doing alright, and there was perhaps a bit of nagging guilt that he hadn't done the same, but he'd needed to get away from there.

Jonothon wasn't so big on that group mentality thing, really.

George wasn't in the room when he staggered in. Probably off at that apathy club meeting, which he couldn't be arsed to attend today. All the better. There was, however, a bed, and, flames or no, he was going to kind of topple forward onto it and resign himself to not moving for about as long as he could possibly get away with it.

Possibly longer still, since there was a squeaky kitten curling up on the small of his back no more than five seconds after he'd fallen over.

Thank God for squeaky kittens.

[The door's shut, but the post is open to anyone who might have a reason to swing by to poke at Jono. Or, heck, to anybody who saw a guy on fire come in who might have a mind to investigate. Or whatever!]

Thursday had been... bad. Bad was the only word that Jonothon could possibly use, because if he tried to make better words to fit what Thursday was, he'd be just inventing them as he went and adding letters for the rest of his life. He missed her. He would always miss her. And he hadn't even had it in him to open his eyes and face her as she walked out of his life.

Friday had been... numb. Jonothon had spent Friday unable to think, drowning in himself in spite of the fact that he didn't need to breathe. But at least it hadn't been numb and alone. He wouldn't have made it through Friday if it had been both, and he'd tell Raven so, eventually, and thank her again for finding him.

Saturday had been... tiring. He had a new roommate to replace Jak, and she wasn't so bad, really. And there had been people at the picnic, even if he didn't think he was up to seeing anybody at all, and they demonstrated one by one that he wasn't alone. Hell, Ben had even come over to watch bloody stupid films that night. There had been popcorn. For throwing, not for eating.

Sunday had just been overwhelming. He'd decided that he wasn't going to have any of that moping thing that he kept giving into, and he was going to go to the library and he was going to bloody well work, and if he smothered himself in it, then he didn't have to think about anything else. And it had been off to a good start. He'd helped Faramir and Dolf both. But then Sherlock bloody Holmes showed up as well, and had ruined his state of mind for dealing with Murdoch, and Mr. DeTamble had wound up sending him home early. Which had led to drinking with Karla and George and a shared psionic sense of tipsiness that, as enjoyable as it was while they were reading The Three Musketeers last night, had sometime since given way to a psionic hangover.

And so Monday? Monday was going to be spent under the covers, cursing sunlight and detectives and swashbuckling and beer. To hell with everything in the entire bloody world. Jonothon didn't have to be up until tomorrow, anyhow.

[But, of course, the post is open for anyone who wants to stop by to poke the mutant, closed door be damned.]

After class, Jono had pretty much stalked his way right on back to his room, where he was going to sit, and glare at things, and contemplate punching the wall until his knuckles were bloody.

Okay, not so much with the contemplating.

Naffin' hell. Ow.

//Bloody school.//

[Open for anyone wondering about the thumps on the wall and the occasional psionic grumble. Or people who just want to visit. Or what-have-you, sure.]

Jonothon was in a mighty fine mood as he pored over music magazines and poked through newspapers from the mainland, trying to figure out if there were any concerts coming up that would be likely to be appreciated by certain time-tossed individuals that he happened to know from his own time, as well.

It was a funny thing, but since his conversation with Emma yesterday on the roof, Jono had been able to just... move forward. Everything seemed to slide away like water off a duck's back. And then there had been the play today, with Didi, and... Well. Just because he didn't have vocal cords didn't mean he wasn't able to hum, did it? It was just... very quiet humming, that was all.

Springsteen didn't seem to have any tour dates set for 2010, that he could find. But that was quite alright. He would persevere!

... Which was a weird concept for Jono in and of itself, but he wasn't knocking it, here.

[Tacked up with one in mind, but open beforehand, if anyone wants to boggle at eerily happy Jono.]

Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke, rose out of bed this morning.

In much the same manner as he did every morning, of course. Shirtless and gorgeous, smiling broadly into the sunlight that shone through his window, outlining his perfect chest, his dashing smile, and, of course, that very same perfect chest that had been mentioned a moment before. It was a very nice chest. It deserved to be mentioned twice.

And, as he was also prone to doing each and every morning, without so much as bothering with a shirt (and why should he ever? It really was a lovely chest. Perhaps he ought to go for a walk to show it off, later today, despite it being December.), he made his way across his room, waved a hand to dismiss his doting servants, and reached for his guitar.

One couldn't be a stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star without practise, after all. Even if he needed no warm-ups and was always, always perfectly on-key.

[Open! I have no particular plans for Jono this weekend, and so if anyone wants to pop in and lather on the crack, I'll totally roll with it.]

Jono officially hated everything, ever.

He still smelled faintly of beer, thanks to his arrest yesterday by a dog and a bunny rabbit, and he missed his jacket, damn it, and sooner or later he was going to have to get his hands on more bandages, or a more convenient way of covering his face, and there was a chip in the body of his guitar and he was sore from Fight Club... And he was running out of reasons to be cranky, but he'd come up with something if only he was given the time to. Really.

For the time being, he was laying down backwards on his bed, staring at the ceiling, with his feet propped up on his headboard and Nirvana playing on the stereo. Because there were absolutely worse ways to spend a cranky evening, thank you very much.

He was currently trying to figure out what those were, too.

[Open!]

Okay, Jonothon had done his socialization for the day. Gotten out of the room, properly traumatized the teammate by introducing her to an X-Man who was more than a few years younger than she'd figured he'd be. Given dirty looks to the food at the brunch.

It was time to skulk back to his room, pull out his guitar, and play music. Whatever the hell he felt like playing at the time, which, if you asked him, was what being a musician was really all about.

And today, he was even going to leave the door open, in case anybody cared to listen. See? He could be social even when he was being completely antisocial, too.

[Open room, open post, mmm, guitar.]

Jonothon was twitchy.

Not twitchy as in random muscle spasms or anything, of course. More twitchy in that way that meant that he couldn't actually sit still for more than a few moments at a time, and he kept double-checking things like the curtains to make certain that they were drawn shut tightly, and he kept locking and unlocking the door, just to be certain that that much wasn't busted. But then, if he locked the door, that might give the wrong impression, and...

He was overthinking this. He was good at overthinking things lately, wasn't he? Okay, Chamber, just sit on your bed, clasp your hands, and wait. Nothing was going to explode just because you happened to be sitting there. Truly.

Bollocks.

[Jono is waiting for somebody, yes, but that doesn't mean that other people can't pay a visit to the silent dorm room, too.]