Dec. 8th, 2011

former_cheerio: ([neg] what.)
Quinn didn't go to the town meeting. (If she had, she would have volunteered that the auditors were freaks who didn't know what cankles were, but the townfolk were -- perhaps mercifully -- spared that set of insights.)

She did not go to the meeting because, after spending a couple hours at the gym, she decided the thing she should do next was clean out every stash of alcohol in the dorms that she knew about.

No one said grief-crazy seventeen-year-olds were smart.

After four hours of exercise, two beers, six warm kiwi wine coolers, a thick swallow of something that was either tequila or alcoholic motor oil, and almost no food for 36 hours or so, Quinn dressed all in black and wobbled out of the dorms. She was armed with a baseball bat, and she was going to kick some auditor ass and avenge! Puck's! loss!.

"I'm going to find you, creepy people!" she told the sky. "I'm going to get you and beat you and make you tell me how to get my boyfriend back!"

She would have done her best to make good on her threat, if she hadn't walked almost smack into a tree near the edge of campus that brushed up against the force field. As she did, the force field blinked, the Nothing got in, and campus was one tree -- and one Quinn -- poorer.

Only the abandoned baseball bat marked that anyone had ever been there at all.

[OOC: NFI.].


former_cheerio: (Default)
Quinn Fabray

June 2015


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