Sam Witwicky

Sam? Was bored.

This generally led to Very Bad Things.

Or, y'know, to him sitting on his bed and throwing a tennis ball against the ceiling. He wasn't sure where the tennis ball had actually come from.

[Door and post are open!]

Sam was sitting on his bed, watching as Daveigh attempted to teach her mother and her sister some incomprehensible children's game that seemed to involve lots of rhyming and hand slapping and clapping and God knew what else. Must've been a girl thing, he figured, because he was pretty sure there was no way he'd ever actually get it.

This was the saddest part of all, he thought. The waiting for them to go. He could deal with the goodbyes, even if he and Mikaela would likely cry after they'd left, but the waiting was just entirely unbearable for him. For Mikaela, too. He could see it in her eyes, even though she was trying to hide it from their girls.

[And this is the Witwicky goodbye post!

Sam wasn't quite sure what time it was when he dragged himself into the room looking like he'd gotten his ass kicked. And honestly? He didn't care.

He just sprawled out on his bed and tried to ignore the pain.

[for camaroconcubine]

Classes -- well, at least his second one -- had been as weird as ever, which actually hadn't surprised Sam. What surprised him more -- which was still to say not at all -- was that both he and Mikaela had managed to forget his birthday. Wait, did she even know his birthday?

He'd ditched his stuff back in the room and had headed into town for a little while. He wound up wandering in the park, just kind of meandering aimlessly and thinking about whatever came to mind. Most often, it was Mikaela.

[For sleepswthdemons. Sort of. Oh, you know what I mean!]

Sam had no classes, which resulted in him being a lazy-ass on his bed.

What? Teenage boy here, people.

Teenage boy who happened to be waiting for his girlfriend to come back to the room.

[for camaroconcubine]

Sam was sprawled out on his bed, nursing various aches from Hockey class. He'd only fallen once, but that didn't mean he hadn't done his share of wobbling and tripping over himself. He was pretty good at that, actually.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he winced. "Ow."

[open as can be!]

Sam still wasn't a hundred percent sure about this whole idea, but despite that, here he was -- unpacking and getting his room set up just the way he wanted it. Well, his side, anyway.

Rummaging through a box of random odds and ends -- couple books, address book, a few CDs, things of that sort -- Sam was mostly oblivious to anybody who might poke their head in.

[ooc: Door and post are open as can be!]

"This is Sam, I'm not here at the moment -- gasp, awe, I have a social life! ... no I don't -- so leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."