At this point, most of Wilbur's days are just not that interesting. Quackity's in town but he's booked solid enough that Wilbur's not expecting a call much less a visit; they saw each other when he got in but haven't since. No word from Techno, which is normal. No word from Phil, which is a relief. S has some friends over but they're long accustomed to Wilbur hiding with a notepad or sketchbook or similar in a different room, as long as he has the notepad and is being a reclusive artistic hermit rather than merely unsociable. He writes a little and throws it out for the crime of just not being very good, even by Capitol standards.

Except that— hey, what the fuck—

WilburSoot_V63 joined the game.

At this point, most of Wilbur's days are just not that interesting. Quackity's in town but he's booked solid enough that Wilbur's not expecting a call much less a visit; they saw each other when he got in but haven't since. No word from Techno, which is normal. No word from Phil, which is a relief. S has some friends over but they're long accustomed to Wilbur hiding with a notepad or sketchbook or similar in a different room, as long as he has the notepad and is being a reclusive artistic hermit rather than merely unsociable. He writes a little and throws it out for the crime of just not being very good, even by Capitol standards.

Except that— hey, what the fuck—

WilburSoot_V63 joined the game.

At this point, most of Wilbur's days are just not that interesting. Quackity's in town but he's booked solid enough that Wilbur's not expecting a call much less a visit; they saw each other when he got in but haven't since. No word from Techno, which is normal. No word from Phil, which is a relief. S has some friends over but they're long accustomed to Wilbur hiding on the balcony with a notepad or sketchbook or similar, as long as he has the notepad and is being a reclusive artistic hermit rather than merely unsociable. He writes a little and throws it out for the crime of just not being very good, even by Capitol standards.

Except that— hey, what the fuck—

WilburSoot_V63 joined the game.

At this point, most of Wilbur's days are just not that interesting. Quackity's in town but he's booked solid enough that Wilbur's not expecting a call much less a visit; they saw each other when he got in but haven't since. No word from Techno, which is normal. No word from Phil, which is a relief. S has some friends over but they're long accustomed to Wilbur hiding on the balcony with a notepad or sketchbook or similar, as long as he has the notepad and is being a reclusive artistic hermit rather than merely unsociable. It's fucking cold out here but he's at least surrounded by the ambient noise of ten stories above a city rather than being surrounded by the ambient noise of S's friends; he writes a little, throws it out for the crime of just not being very good even by Capitol standards, writes a little more. 

Except that— hey, what the fuck—

WilburSoot_V63 joined the game.