|machine give cash|

Sarah? Still in London. Still at the Fortress. The biggest change was that last night she'd actually slept over at Jenny's, because Don was starting to get sick of her sharing his space. Oh, and she'd stopped a mugging yesterday, when she'd been out buying cigarettes. Nothing grandiose but she figured she'd at least get a mention in New Power Express for it.

Like she figured she should have probably been considering a trip back to Fandom, what with tomorrow being the final session of Wild Roving and all. But she was kind of dreading that.

So, right now she figured it was still time to sit in the same old booth with her friends, and finish this bottle of Green Lamp Ale. Which she was not drinking for any significant reason whatsoever, so kindly shut your gob before she shuts its for you.

[ooc: NFB, and for that Guy.]

It had started out as a normal day. It had continued on as a normal day, too, you know, the way it went for someone who lived alone and didn't have to be anywhere. Quiet and all. But then Jenny had called to gush about something pointless. And Sarah had found herself uttering the words "who gives an expletive?" And yes, she'd actually said the word "expletive". No, it wasn't been what she'd meant to say. A few more sentences like that had followed, and Jen had been inspired to coo about how proud she was of Sarah for making an effort to not curse so much. Sarah had hung up shortly afterwards.

And then she'd spent most of her day talking to herself. As if she could somehow force the effects of the island off herself by the sheer power of wanting to sound like herself. So, if her neighbours had caught any of the sudden exclamations of "Melon farmer!" or "FUDGE!", she was deeply sorry. Except probably not.

Unsurprisingly, it hadn't worked.

Also, in a fit of wanting to whine at someone, she'd left a voicemail for Guy, which had probably been a mistake, in hindsight, if hilarious for anyone who wasn't her. But she was her, so she was going to wallow in an annoyed sort of self-pity for a while, here. Being able to swear was kind of an integral part of her personality, okay. Felt like that when she couldn't do it, anyway. It was like an annoying itch she couldn't stop scratching, even though that just made her all the more annoyed and miserable.

Since there was no way she was going out, at least not before the bars opened, she ordered a pizza – without any embarrassing word choices, thankfully – then slumped on her couch. "Bananas."

[ooc: Ooopen, and kind of obligatory, considering the day.]