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Jan. 19th, 2013 07:44 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mootles.insanejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nevermore_logsWho: 4chan & Higher Education.
What: COFFEE!
Where: NYU Student Housing.
When: Saturday afternoonish.
Rating: Rated 4, for 4chan. But most likely language, and 4chan making sex jokes.
Finding out exactly where the hell Peter was had proved somewhat of a challenge. Carrying a steaming hot cup of coffee, lovingly dispensed into a thermos from the only coffee shop near NYU that he was actually still allowed in, he parked his bike haphazardly into a busy little bike rack, and instantly began peeking around for people who might have been Peter.
His shirt, a pink and blue v-necked affair, was drawing all the wrong kinds of attention already. But he liked to dress up when he first met people. It left an impression. A sparkly, pink, unicorn impression. Hair, spiked and tousled, a combination of bedhead and styling product, not to mention the weather, sort of stuck up around his head, and gave no fucks. He smelled like coffee, cinnamon, and possibly weed. Most definitely weed. Although, not quite enough to raise any eyebrows around a college campus. He wormed his way into the building, thermos in hand, and started knocking on doors.
The first person he ran into was most assuredly not Peter. He was a big, surly thing with long hair and a Violator shirt that David stared at blankly until the door slammed in his face. Well, then. He climbed a set of stairs, and finally got to a neat little door, which he enthusiastically knocked on.
"Hello? Escort service!" he called, grinning, and all but feeling the ire of every other room in the building. This was going to be fun.
What: COFFEE!
Where: NYU Student Housing.
When: Saturday afternoonish.
Rating: Rated 4, for 4chan. But most likely language, and 4chan making sex jokes.
Finding out exactly where the hell Peter was had proved somewhat of a challenge. Carrying a steaming hot cup of coffee, lovingly dispensed into a thermos from the only coffee shop near NYU that he was actually still allowed in, he parked his bike haphazardly into a busy little bike rack, and instantly began peeking around for people who might have been Peter.
His shirt, a pink and blue v-necked affair, was drawing all the wrong kinds of attention already. But he liked to dress up when he first met people. It left an impression. A sparkly, pink, unicorn impression. Hair, spiked and tousled, a combination of bedhead and styling product, not to mention the weather, sort of stuck up around his head, and gave no fucks. He smelled like coffee, cinnamon, and possibly weed. Most definitely weed. Although, not quite enough to raise any eyebrows around a college campus. He wormed his way into the building, thermos in hand, and started knocking on doors.
The first person he ran into was most assuredly not Peter. He was a big, surly thing with long hair and a Violator shirt that David stared at blankly until the door slammed in his face. Well, then. He climbed a set of stairs, and finally got to a neat little door, which he enthusiastically knocked on.
"Hello? Escort service!" he called, grinning, and all but feeling the ire of every other room in the building. This was going to be fun.
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