The Absolutley Fascinating Diary Entries of Grell Sutcliff

September 11
Just to start off, silly peice of paper, this was not my idea whatsoever. No. Not at all. It was utterly and entirely Will's fault...well, not exactly fault; he is capable of none of the sort. All "Mr. Must be absolutely perfect" and that. It was merely his own doing to which I have been forced against my will (not that Will, my lovlies. Of course, it would be rather nice if he were mine.). Said I was "spending too much time out on missions," and that I "might need a bit of time off" or some other of the likely codswallop. Of course, anyone with a pair of perfectly-functioning eyes attached to their lovely little sockets would know for sure that said person with a perfectly-functioning brain attached to the back of their head (...we hope.) would be hinting subtely that the former isn't doing to smooth and had better get their act together before Will does something terribely unWill-like, like bursting into spontaneous cartwheels or jump off a building or worse, crooked-ify (or whatever it is he likes to call it) his beloved glasses. Psh.So anyway, he gave me this little booklet of insufferable doom to write my "crash-progress" or something like that. Crash, as in meaning my little break. Or to vent out. (whatever that means)
Again, I say what.
...that man confuses me thoroughly.
So he told me to keep record, but of course I'm not. Handsome as he is, there is no way I'm going to do anything that doesn't involve legal papers. And as far as I can tell, this peice of paper has no legal notes (again, come to think of it, I've never even seen a legal note...)
But just so you are aware, strange, psychic book of lined paper, this wasn't my idea.