You see things; and you say, 'Why?'

He reaches out to touch, before he remembers that he can't. Not without the gloves, or else he'll know too much. They'll be in his head and they’ll hate that they’re there. Hate that he knows who they truly are, deep down. That he can see.

Sometimes, the things he can see are beautiful. Kindness. Love.

Sometimes, they're ugly. Fear. Hatred. Anger. Despair.

He's standing in a crowded hallway, all around him his classmates walking, running, laughing as they head to their next class. That casual brush of skin against skin as two people bump into each other- he shies away from it, fears it. At the same time he craves it, more than anything.

He reaches out to touch, before he remembers that he can't- and he doesn't need his fingers to see terror, this time. It's there in front of him, just before they both flinch away.

Bridge's eyes snap open as he finds himself coming dangerously close to falling off the bed. He manages to grab the mattress and push himself back from the edge before that actually happens, though. So now he's just lying there, trying to calm down.

[ooc: For... the person who this room actually belongs to.]

The problem with being out in nature is that it's really, really hard to *ignore* nature. Especially first thing in the morning. But Bridge is doing his best to muffle the sounds of birds and animals and other nature-related things by... snuggling in to the other person currently occupying the bed.

After going to talk to Principal Washburn, Bridge had headed back to the Scoobying Workshop, but for the rest of the class he was pretty worried and distracted.

Which is why, shortly after the workshop is over, Bridge is back in his room, grabbing a change of clothes and stuffing them into a bag.

"I think it's this way," Bridge says, gesturing to the woods just past the Flamingo cabin. "Least, that's what I've heard."

[ooc: locked to he who knows who he is, omg. also, NFB.]

Bridge was sprawled on his bed, notebook open to a page of schematics, and a multitude of assorted parts scattered on the bedspread around him.

The door was propped open with a box containing the parts of a disassembled television set.

[ooc: door is openinated. but not opinionated, like i first typed. it's just a door after all.]

Well, Xander and Bridge have made it through Prom.

And now, look, they've made it to Bridge's room.

The door's open, and Bridge is waiting for... well, pretty much one specific person, actually.

Bridge flips open his phone and sees the "new message" notification.

Grinning like a dork (yes, yet again today), he opens the message.

Bridge is... still avoiding people. After ACJ, he heads right back to his room and shuts the door.

He's moved on from merely sorting all his stuff into cataloguing. There's even a spreadsheet. This is never good.

[ooc: open to omgsomeone.]