hatesmostthings: (!?: hot nonsense)
Buying the gun was, really and truly, an honest mistake.

Well, maybe not a mistake in the sense that April genuinely regretted it, or felt bad that it had happened. She was actually pretty ambivalent about it. But she had definitely learned a valuable lesson about texting and walking at the same time (living on an island without cars had really made her quite cocky in that regard), and more importantly, about texting and making purchases. Because when you didn't look up or pay attention as you keyed your request into a new but much-appreciated vending machine, sometimes instead of getting a random snack, you got a weapon instead.

April crouched down to pick up whatever had fallen out of the dispenser slot and, well, it wasn't chips. It wasn't even chewing gum.

"What the hell?" she muttered, holding the gun in both hands and only now noticing the word "GUNS" in giant print across the front of the machine. "This isn't a lunch."

Unless she brought it into the preserve and really got pretty good with it, no, it wasn't.

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hatesmostthings: (fact: facepalm)
April might have hated most things, but there were some simple pleasures that she always enjoyed, and sleeping on the couch was at the top of the list.

The good news was that when she woke up today, she no longer felt antsy and inclined to bang random breakfast-making guys or vampires or whatever or tell random British chicks they were hot. The bad news was that she was, you know, awake.

Begrudgingly, April groaned, got out of bed, affixed Cliff's leash to his collar and took him outside, looking not unlike a zombie. A zombie who wore pajamas.

[[open!]]
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