dollpocalypse (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dollpocalypse) wrote2012-08-06 05:53 pm
dollpocalypse) wrote2012-08-06 05:53 pm
Room 307, Monday Early Afternoon
The second Topher stepped out of his portal onto the Causeway, he wanted to turn back and head back to Peter's place. That place had technology, a blissful lack of noise and visitors, and a guilt-free environment free of awkward apologies and blaming himself for stuff. Basically, it was perfect. Fandom was... not.
It was even less perfect after Topher went to class, where all that guilt-free philosophy imparted unto him by Peter was promptly zapped away by the same scarily-persuasive Wiggin rationalizing that had gotten it into his head in the first place. Weighed down by the fresh reminder of all the bad stuff he'd done that week, he trudged back to his room and without even bothering to close the door properly, strode on in, flopped on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.
Seriously, he'd love a portal back to Haiti. Even one that took him through a layover filled with giant rats would be fine. Maybe if he intentionally took one of those, the schadenfreude would be enough for Peter to let him stay a little longer?
...Whatever, he could dream.
It was even less perfect after Topher went to class, where all that guilt-free philosophy imparted unto him by Peter was promptly zapped away by the same scarily-persuasive Wiggin rationalizing that had gotten it into his head in the first place. Weighed down by the fresh reminder of all the bad stuff he'd done that week, he trudged back to his room and without even bothering to close the door properly, strode on in, flopped on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.
Seriously, he'd love a portal back to Haiti. Even one that took him through a layover filled with giant rats would be fine. Maybe if he intentionally took one of those, the schadenfreude would be enough for Peter to let him stay a little longer?
...Whatever, he could dream.
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"I'm not going to get it," he decided. "I'm Catholic, so I kind of know about repression, and I'm still not going to get it. But saying you wouldn't do it here ... that's a start, right?"
He had to hope it was, or that punch would sound better again.
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Oh, yes, right, the actual topic.
"But, uh. Yeah. I guess. And if I get like that again, ever, you can punch me if you want." How generous! "I mean, you can still do that. Given the circumstances."
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He glanced over, smiled the tiniest bit. "Anyhow, I'm not going to punch you," he said. "I might just kill you if you ever do anything remotely like that in the real world, but no punching tonight."
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"Hey, how did things end up for you in the other universe, anyway?" he suddenly remembered to ask. "I was... in a closet, so I missed some stuff."
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He frowned. "How come you were in a closet?"
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"Good thing Tony was around," Topher said, and if he kind of mumbled it, well, that was his business. "The closet thing was 'cause of Kenzi. She sort of knocked me out."
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Blaming Kenzi entirely for that was a bit unfair when Topher had tied him up in the first place, but.
"So were Billy and Jaime the only people you, you know, hurt?"
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He looked at his hands, as if imagining them shooting sparks. Two fights was more than enough. (Though he still thought the thing with Jaime had at least been a fair fight, by superhero standards.) "What was your body count?"
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So nice going, Topher.
"Oh, and this girl Elle and I were going to go into detention to torture her friend, but we never had time."
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Victor could possibly be slightly less judgmental about people he didn't actually know, but certain opinions died hard.
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According to Tumblr, anyway. Which was usually a super-credible source!
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Which was ... not such a big deal, if you were from where Victor was from.
"I dunno, I just never liked him back when I was into the fanboy stuff. Probably should give the one here a chance."
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Like Gert. Like Alex Wilder. Like his mom.
"You could go to the gym," he added. "Probably they have the fancy treadmills, you know, with the computer screens?"
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GEEEEEEEEEEERT. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????"Yeah, but gross." Topher, exercise was not going to kill you. Really now. "And I'm like the worst runner. I mean, Tony and Billy and I went running once? Worst. Day. Ever."
Well, the fact that it had happened during sex pollen had probably also been a factor.
"Do you even do that stuff? I mean, being a... you and all." Diplomatic.
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Victor knew what Topher meant. He just thought it was a dumb question -- he probably didn't have to, but he liked to exercise sometimes anyhow. Besides, he was getting bored with talking about being a cyborg.
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"Oh, okay, well, that clears that up," Topher said, sarcastically going along with it. He figured Victor was entitled to steer the conversation a little after the week they'd just had. "So you can go stalk him and ask him all about being a thief and getting mind-controlled and killing a whole bunch of people. 'Cause fun."
Or not.
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"Or I could go in, say hi, and introduce myself like a normal human being," he said. "I said I wasn't impressed with him, not that I want to pick a fight. Dude is an Avenger."
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"...True," he admitted. "He might shoot you in the face. You should, you know. Avoid that."
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He wasn't still upset at Topher, exactly -- or not this version of him -- but he was starting to just feel sort of done with this.
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"'Kay," he said, nodding. "Uh. Good... talk. And everything."
He wasn't sure whether they were okay, exactly -- the conversation itself had been civil enough, but Victor wasn't really the easiest guy to read -- but he certainly wasn't about to question it and make things even more awkward, so.
"Later."
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"Hasta," he agreed, and was gone.