Weevil had made his way to New Orleans proper to try and get himself a cheap bike. Heading out of Milieux was strike one against the deal that kept him out of jail.

In New Orleans, being a highly tattooed ex-gang leader can get you in trouble with people of the less than savory sort. Brawling with said people, that was strike two.

Then, when he was so frustrated he mouthed off to the arresting officer, well, that was strike three.

When his record popped up at the police office, a phone call was made. Within hours, Weevil was on his way back to California, swearing up a storm. In handcuffs.

He wouldn't even get a chance to say goodbye.

[ooc: And a sadly rather handwavey goodbye to our local hoodlum-trying-to-make-good.]

"Goddamn Logan Echolls and his Oh-Niner ass and his every..."

He took a deep breath before he ended up smashing anything that might end up being Claire's.

"I hate this place."

[ooc: For El, and the Roomie if wanted. Major SP in effect.]

Current Mood: angry

Weevil was now really, really pissed. He started punching his mattress, because he didn't want to smash anything that might freak out Claire.

He was at least being a little considerate.

[ooc: Open, but mainly from Ivanova]

Current Mood: pissed off

Weevil opened the door to the room and let out a sigh of relief. "She's not around, good," he said.

And then he put a sock on the outside doorknob. "You comin' in?"

[for Ivanonva]

Weevil was humming to himself, folding his laundry. He still was having... issues, with the whole roommate thing. It was... definitely not something he'd expected.

[ooc: For the roomie only, please]

Weevil was just about ready to do something stupid, just to see how it would shake things up around here.

For now, he was keeping himself from doing anything that might land him in jail. So he was playing 'bounce the basketball off his wall' game. Because that was a constructive use of his time.

He had left the door to his room open.

[ooc: Open, eh?]