<hr/><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"Oh. It’s You”</span></strong></span> </div><br/><hr/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://metrouk2.files.wordpress.com/2014/02/rankin-hunger-magazine.png)</div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><strong>NAME: </strong> Antonie Jepson<br/><strong>AGE:</strong> 21<br/><strong>LOCATION &amp; TIME:</strong> Dorm room 120| 9/2/16 4:01pm<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong> Fox Kingsley  <em><strong>CLOSED</strong></em><br/><strong>ADDITIONAL INFO:</strong> Coming off scene <strong><span class="bbc_u">HERE</span></strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246312.msg12227187#msg12227187) </span></span><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">The door slammed behind Tonie and he collapsed his weight against it, his back making a dense <em>thump</em> as it made contact with the wood. His chest was heaving, his lips parted as he panted. His thoughts were a jumbled mess the likes of which he had never experienced.<br/><br/>He kept remembering the taste of Eli, the smell of him. <br/><br/>Suddenly Tonie remembered he’d left his books and papers behind. The palm of his hand connected with the door in a sharp slap near his hip. <br/><br/>“Damn it,” he growled out, his head finally rolling to take in his roommate as she lounged, phone in hand, on her bed. Her long, lustrous hair was falling freely around her face, her white top tight enough to leave very little to the imagination and the short green skirt flashing a generous amount of thigh.<br/><br/>The sight left him completely numb. With a sigh he pushed from the door and stepped toward the utilitarian bed on his side of the room. It was covered in a plain navy comforter, crisply made. His single pillow was centered precisely in the center of the head of the bed, his sheets folded down over the comforter exactly 6 inches under the pillow.  The contrast between their sides of the room was startling.<br/><br/>“Hello,” he greeted her, attempting to be polite as he passed the bed to pull out the chair at his desk and settle into it. Although what the hell he was going to do without those books was a bit of a mystery. Halfheartedly he pulled his statistic book from the neat pile on the side of the desk. On his day calendar it very clearly stated he should be in the lab for the next hour and fourty three minutes. Statistics wasn’t on his schedule until 8 pm. After dinner. But what could a guy do?<br/><br/>A frown marred his face. He very much disliked breaking his schedule.</span></span><br/>