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So, okay. Jack and Ramie had sort of...gotten it together over the back half of the summer back in Winterhead, so Jack had been relieved when he woke up in New York yesterday, instead of off on a road trip to find ourselves or whatever with Jill's former and current crush, Tommy Knutson. Shudder. But Ramie had had to dash off to class and then 'a thing' yesterday, leaving Jack to entertain himself with the promise that they would hang out (and make out) today.

Except she'd made some kind of fashion something he hadn't paid attention plans last night, and had to dash out again today to network or whatever.

The apartment was getting really freaking boring. He was going to have to complain to the management about this. And by the management, he meant Jill.

((Open for calls/whatever, if anyone's interested.))

Brooklyn, New York, Tuesday Afternoon

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((Open to phone calls, texts, e-mail, etc.))
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((Most of this entry modified from ReCycler by Lauren McLaughlin.))

Room 417, Friday Morning

The night before the last final exam of her high school career, Jill McTeague went to bed.

The next morning, Jack McTeague got up. He was pretty sure Jill had been operating on blind hope that the cycle would be off this month, though if it had been too far off he might have walked at graduation, and wouldn't that have pissed her off? Ha. Still, just in case, she'd left her notes out for him to read over. Jack was...actually a little nervous. If he bombed Jill's class she'd never forgive him, but it wasn't like she could expect him to learn an entire semester's worth of business whatever in a couple of hours.

Of course, then there was the fact that the post-it Jill had stuck to said notes began, Jack, I'm not sure any of this will be useful... so Jack wasn't sure why he was bothering. Still, here he was, eating (smooth) peanut butter out of the jar and reading Jill's stupidly thorough notes like he would remember any of it ten minutes later. He stood a better chance digging around in Jill's memory, honestly, but whatever.

((Mostly establishy, but can be open if you so please!))

Room 417, Sunday Afternoon

There were kids. Everywhere.

None of them had flung themselves at Jill yelling, "MOMMY!" or worse, "DADDY!" yet, so Jill was beginning to suspect she had escaped unscathed, and realized that this was an excellent opportunity to make a buck.

A sign outside the the open door to room 417 announced:

Experienced babysitter for hire!!!
Rates negotiable*.
*Based on how evil your kid is.


Hey, she was honest.

((Open door, open post!))

Room 417, Thursday Afternoon

So, there was weirdness going on outside. Again. Luckily, Jill had an Action Plan! It was pretty much her usual plan for when there was weirdness. Repress Deny Avoid hadn't worked out so well, but Avoid still worked fine, as far as she could tell. She'd given brief though to duct taping around the windows, but ultimately decided that might be overkill. Now, she had food and downloaded episodes of Be Good Johnny Weir, aka 'Jill's new favorite show,' and teen movies for when watching a figure skater basically have sex with his foot massager got old (which she figured would be about never), and figured she was good for the duration.

((Open door, open post!))

Room 417, Saturday Morning

Jack was still sound asleep when voices filtered through the door and stirred him partially awake: "Are you sure it's 417, Richard?"

"Just knock, Helen, if it's not her room maybe they can tell us where she lives."

Jack had just decided he was dreaming and turned over to go back to sleep when the pounding on the door started. "Oh good God!" he said as he fell out of bed and scrambled in the bedclothes. "Uh! Just a second!"

"Jill, honey, are you okay? What's going on in there?"

"Is she sick?" his mother worried. "She sounds sick. Sweetheart, are you feeling all right?"

He found a letter on the bedside table: JACK. READ ME. He opened it and skimmed it. Parents' Weekend, they were here, so was Ramie, she'd told Ramie, don't panic. PS she hadn't gotten around to telling them this weekend would be Jacktime. Of course she hadn't.

They were knocking on the door again, so Jack hurried to open it. Still in Jill's pajamas, yes. "Uh. Hi."

((For the parents.))

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Room 417, Thursday Evening

Jill stared at her calendar for a long time, hoping this would be an off month because of the random girls turning into boys thing last week, before she finally sucked it up, admitted to herself that with her luck it so would not be, and went to make a phone call.

"Hey, Mom, listen...about this weekend...no, okay, you first." Maybe something had come up and they weren't coming! Her dad wouldn't leave the basement again, if she was lucky.

A moment later, her shriek of, "WHAT?" was probably audible all down the hall, particularly considering the door was open. Jill lowered her voice and hissed into the phone, "Oh, mal, oh mal mal mal. Mom, you cannot bring her here. Not this weekend! How does she even know I'm here? She got a letter?! Well, can't you just tell her you can't bring her? You--what do you mean it would be rude? You don't even like Ramie, Mom! You call her a worshipper of chaos!...yes, Mom. Yes, Mom. No, I understand. Of course I want to see Ramie. It's just--I'll talk to you when you get here, okay?"

Jill hung up her phone, collapsed facedown on her bed, and screamed into the pillow.

Well. Looked like she couldn't put off that talk with Ramie any longer after all.

((Door and post are open!))

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Room 417, Wednesday Morning

Jack was, he had to admit, a little surprised to be waking up this particular Wednesday. According to Jill's wall calendar, with its little blue hatchmarks for projected Jacktime and purple Xes marking time, he was eleven days early. "Whoa," he mumbled, then flopped back on the bed, debating whether he wanted to get up. It wasn't like he had a class or anything, and Jill's stretchy pajamas were actually pretty comfortable, but they were also purple. Not exactly the image he wanted to project.

((Mostly establishy, but open to the roommate if she wants.))

Room 417, Saturday Afternoon

Jill was bored. There was nothing on TV. Why was there never anything good on TV when she was bor--ooh, was that the Rock? She flipped back a few channels.

It was the Rock. And Karl Urban! Score!

Within about ten minutes, Jill had realized two, no, three things. One, this movie was not her taste at all. Jack probably would have liked it, though. Two, she thought it might be actually kind of terrible. Three, every time she decided she'd had enough and was changing the channel, the Rock or Karl Urban was going to come onscreen and destroy her resolve, so she was stuck with it.

Well, she figured it was this or Chef vs. City on Food Network, and this had way cuter guys. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon.

((Door and post open!))

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