dollpocalypse: (twenty: smirk)
It had officially been forever since the guys' last drinking night, so with the six of them all on the island for a weekend, there was really no excuse not to have some kind of gathering. And since Topher's hotel room had space on the ceiling and awesome futuristic-looking furniture, there was pretty much exactly no question about where this gathering would be.

And with an alcohol tolerance that had been drastically reduced by going almost fourteen years without drinking at all, Topher stood a very high chance of getting stupidly drunk tonight. It was probably going to be hilarious.

The bar was stocked to capacity with, among other things, every necessary ingredient for every girly cocktail ever invented, and Topher had hauled the entire contents of his office's Drawer of Inappropriate Starches onto the table for the occasion. (Ivy would get more for him before he got back to LA, he was sure. ...He was mostly sure.)

"B-t-dubs, there's astronaut ice cream in the bathtub," Topher announced loudly to everyone. "...No idea why it's there. But Ben gets last dibs."

Cruel, Topher. Cruel.

[[for the 20-years-older nerds! let's see if two decades made them more responsible.]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: getting into bed)
So for Topher, today had been noteworthy due to a variety of circumstances, the most obvious of which being:

1.) His best friend was apparently a world-famous political blogger who'd saved a whole bunch of kids' lives
2.) Said best friend had just been forced to go into hiding to avoid being killed by a Belgian psychopath
3.) Topher's room was still full of paint fumes, and
4.) It was his sixteenth birthday.

As a result of all of that, plus the portal-lag that came from the round-trip excursion to Peter's universe, Topher was just a little bit exhausted by the time he got back to his room in the evening. Too exhausted, in fact, to indulge in his usual birthday tradition of a cupcake and a couple rounds of laser tag at the nearest arena. So instead, by the time he got to his room, he flopped down on his bed to try to repress concerns about Peter by playing Tetris on his phone.

At least he was kicking ass at it, so, you know, there was that.

[[open! billy | dave | kenzi | ben ]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: drawer of inappropriate starches)
Look. When you'd been playing paintball all night and wondered whether you'd ever get the smell of paint out of your nostrils in your entire life, you didn't settle for just any coffee and breakfast food. Oh, no, no, no, no.

You wanted Denny's.

Which was why a portal could be found relatively early Sunday morning just outside Caritas, ready to shuttle anyone who wanted to go over to the Denny's on the mainland.

And sure enough, emerging from that portal, people would find a near-limitless selection of breakfast foods to be enjoyed well into the afternoon. Oddly enough, the wait staff didn't seem too surprised by the assumed crowd of paint-splattered people showing up -- but then, they were used to Fandom hijinks, and this was hardly the weirdest one they'd ever had.

[[NFB, BUT YES, OPEN TO ALL. DENNY'S IS FOR WINNERS. or more accurately, denny's is for anyone who feels like showing up. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.]]
dollpocalypse: (fact: sleeping)
So lately? Topher had been getting a little bit better at getting people. He wasn't great at it or anything, wasn't even really good, and still needed to ask a lot of questions, but at least by now he knew what to ask. And who to ask, and how to ask, and just generally the right way to figure things out.

Which he thought he had, yesterday. Figured stuff out, that was. Because... Billy. There had been Ben's advice and everyone else ever's implications and he'd been pretty sure he was right. Because of, like, the scientific method, where Ben and Kenzi and Tony and Peter and Ender were all test subjects and they'd all given him data to suggest that: yes, Billy was okay, Billy was cleared, he should try this with Billy, because it wasn't like he was ever going to get anywhere with anyone else this kind of thing made people happy, and Billy made Topher happy and maybe it would be a good thing. To try it. And he'd thought he was right. Been pretty sure, as a scientist, that his data proved his hypothesis.

Except he definitely had not been right, because he'd tried to do what everyone else thought he should do and wound up getting laughed at.

So. Fuck that. Fuck talking to people. Fuck going outside, too. Today he was buried under all his blankets and reading a comic and wondering why it wasn't helping him feel better yet.

Any second now.

[[door closed, post open, emo within]]
dollpocalypse: (awk: ahaha plzleave)
Topher shifted a little in his seat, taking in the restaurant and all the people and especially the other people at his table.

Dinner. Dinner with Billy and Ben and Ender.

Well, this wasn't going to be awkward at all.

"So... do you think they have onion rings?"

[[for the three! okay for broadcast since it's in rio, just in a separate post so we don't break the trips post, la.]]

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