Billy O'Neill
Jan 9th, 2009, 12:00:45 AM
This thread parallels the events of Commencement (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=18216).
William James O'Neill: PhD Doctor of Genetics; Lecturer at Empire State University; Mutant. Also, in the shower.
Billy unleashed a mighty high-pitched squeal as once again the battered old heating unit in his rented home's water tank cut out mid-task, and plunged his shower into an icy torrent. Haste drove his actions as he thrashed frantically at the shower curtain that was tugged half-way across the bath to stop the spray from the poorly-fitted shower head soaking the wall opposite. He stumbled, somehow managing to get one of his legs out but not the other, twisting as said second leg snagged against the edge of the bath and attempted to trip him. It half succeeded, but Billy managed to snag the wall - and conveniently a towel as well - the latter of which he wrapped around his waist while using the former for balance.
With his few remaining shreds of modesty protected, Billy let out a grunt and clomped his way across the tiny bathroom towards the sink that, due to his apartment having been decorated by stickmen jutted out far enough for the basin to rest on his leg while he sat on the toilet. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, he stared for a few moments at the mass of crazy spikes covering his scalp, his hair not yet tamed after he second palm of shampoo had been vigorously washed out. He leanded closer, peering at his hairline. For the last few weeks he had been studying the genetics of hair pigmentation, in the hopes that he might be able to use his mutant abilities to recolour his hair from the roots upwards. Unfortunately, hair grew at the painfully slow rate of around half a millimetre a day; thus, it had taken a week for any change to be significant enough to notice. Anyone examining his hairline would discover that the normally brown strands had a two millimetre band of ginger at the base; another similar band of black was already well on the way.
Leaning back and running a hand over his scalp to flatten down his crazy locks, Billy spent a few moments wondering if he might be able to mix things up a little, and modify his genetics in such a way that his hair would naturally grow with highlights, in an unusual colour like green or purple, and other such fashionable things. He spent the next few moments marvelling at the fact that he could even recognise the distinctions: colour blindness had been among a string of genetic disorders that had affected him in his youth, and that his mutant abilities had repaired when he was only nine years old.
It was his powers that had driven him to study Genetics further, eventually leading to his current status as a Doctor in the subject, and a lecturer in same at Empire State University. It was that latter identifier that was significant today in particular: the end of the academic year saw some of the undergraduate students he had been working with recieving their diplomas. The ceremony was still hours away, but given how bad the traffic was, and how packed public transport would be at his time of day, he had decided to leave in pleanty of time. Unfortunately, his miser of a landlord had neglected to repair yet another fault, and had turned his pleasant and relaxing shower into a painful and stressful affair.
Billy sighed, and liberated the towel from his waist, rubbing it frantically over his head. What once had been wet spikes of hair was quickly replaced with a plume of slightly dryer and slightly more statically charged strands. Using a corner of the same towel to dab the water of his face, Billy padded back into the main room of his studio flat, and dumped himself unceremoniously on the sofa, face-down.
I have four hours, Billy reminded himself, not moving even the slightest bit, despite the uncomfortable and compromising position he had landed in. I'll get dressed later.
William James O'Neill: PhD Doctor of Genetics; Lecturer at Empire State University; Mutant. Also, in the shower.
Billy unleashed a mighty high-pitched squeal as once again the battered old heating unit in his rented home's water tank cut out mid-task, and plunged his shower into an icy torrent. Haste drove his actions as he thrashed frantically at the shower curtain that was tugged half-way across the bath to stop the spray from the poorly-fitted shower head soaking the wall opposite. He stumbled, somehow managing to get one of his legs out but not the other, twisting as said second leg snagged against the edge of the bath and attempted to trip him. It half succeeded, but Billy managed to snag the wall - and conveniently a towel as well - the latter of which he wrapped around his waist while using the former for balance.
With his few remaining shreds of modesty protected, Billy let out a grunt and clomped his way across the tiny bathroom towards the sink that, due to his apartment having been decorated by stickmen jutted out far enough for the basin to rest on his leg while he sat on the toilet. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, he stared for a few moments at the mass of crazy spikes covering his scalp, his hair not yet tamed after he second palm of shampoo had been vigorously washed out. He leanded closer, peering at his hairline. For the last few weeks he had been studying the genetics of hair pigmentation, in the hopes that he might be able to use his mutant abilities to recolour his hair from the roots upwards. Unfortunately, hair grew at the painfully slow rate of around half a millimetre a day; thus, it had taken a week for any change to be significant enough to notice. Anyone examining his hairline would discover that the normally brown strands had a two millimetre band of ginger at the base; another similar band of black was already well on the way.
Leaning back and running a hand over his scalp to flatten down his crazy locks, Billy spent a few moments wondering if he might be able to mix things up a little, and modify his genetics in such a way that his hair would naturally grow with highlights, in an unusual colour like green or purple, and other such fashionable things. He spent the next few moments marvelling at the fact that he could even recognise the distinctions: colour blindness had been among a string of genetic disorders that had affected him in his youth, and that his mutant abilities had repaired when he was only nine years old.
It was his powers that had driven him to study Genetics further, eventually leading to his current status as a Doctor in the subject, and a lecturer in same at Empire State University. It was that latter identifier that was significant today in particular: the end of the academic year saw some of the undergraduate students he had been working with recieving their diplomas. The ceremony was still hours away, but given how bad the traffic was, and how packed public transport would be at his time of day, he had decided to leave in pleanty of time. Unfortunately, his miser of a landlord had neglected to repair yet another fault, and had turned his pleasant and relaxing shower into a painful and stressful affair.
Billy sighed, and liberated the towel from his waist, rubbing it frantically over his head. What once had been wet spikes of hair was quickly replaced with a plume of slightly dryer and slightly more statically charged strands. Using a corner of the same towel to dab the water of his face, Billy padded back into the main room of his studio flat, and dumped himself unceremoniously on the sofa, face-down.
I have four hours, Billy reminded himself, not moving even the slightest bit, despite the uncomfortable and compromising position he had landed in. I'll get dressed later.