dollpocalypse | Room 307, Sunday Afternoon

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Room 307, Sunday Afternoon

Topher was not having the best day in the world. Not by a long shot.

First he had woken up to find his eye still smarting from the day before (seriously, how many times was he going to get punched this month? Come on!), and then he had reluctantly trudged to the junk yard to try and find some parts to make into laser robots for Peter. He had actually found some things that might be useful, but he had also stumbled across a rat twice the size of his foot that had sent him shrieking back to the dorms. And of course he'd stumbled on the way, so now he was limping on top of everything else.

The solution? To collapse on his bed and eat some Cheetos, of course. He didn't have any ice to put on his eye, so he dug an ice cream sandwich out of his minifreezer and stuck it on there.

See? All better.

[[Door and post open!]]

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"Those rats sure are terrifying, aren't they," said Peter from the doorway.

He was not doing the best job at keeping his face smooth or himself from laughing.

Topher moved the ice cream sandwich over slightly to allow him to see his visitor. Upon noting that it was Peter, he burst up, knocking the bag of Cheetos all over the bed. "What? Oh! Yeah! That one had murder in its eyes, man."

Peter nodded seriously, stepping into the room. He had his backpack on for no real reason besides book and portable desk transportation. Really.

"A murderous rat, huh?" he asked. "How big was this terrifying monster?"

"Like, two feet long," Topher said seriously. He shook his head in disbelief, still scarred from the horrors he'd faced this morning. Then, to help offset the trauma, he unwrapped the ice cream sandwich, took a bite, and then pressed it back to his eye. Yeah, good luck cleaning up the inevitable melted chocolate wafer, Topher.

Helpfully, he offered, "Want?"

"No, thanks," Peter said, pulling a slight face. He swung his backpack over and started rummaging around in it. "Two feet long rat? How'd you escape that one?"

"I ran."

And the rat had just sat there, happily munching on some garbage. But Topher had neglected to notice that. As far as he was concerned, he had just run all the way across the island from a murderous rat that was chasing him.

"And," he added, holding up his own backpack, "I got you a ton of parts. Even though I was being chased. Pretty impressive, right?"

"Oh, I'm sure you got the best haul of any man to be chased out of a junk yard," Peter said.

Or attempted.

He might have finally lost it and started laughing halfway in.

"Hey!" Topher squawked, offended. "I'll have you know that that rat was huge! Probably fresh from its last kill!"

There was a little bit of mania in his eyes just then.

"I'm lucky to have escaped when I did!"

Peter ever-subtly shoved a small bodice ripper under a stack of paper where he was unpacking. He was still laughing. "Ah, the common garden variety rat," he said, snickering. "Such a killer. I think one once ate a child whole! The terror!"

Topher was totally failing to notice the porn. He was so, so easily distracted.

"I don't know about children, but this one definitely had it in for me," he said seriously. "Maybe it was the scent of genius!"

YES. OBVIOUSLY IT WAS THAT.

"Or maybe," he said, leaping off the bed and gesticulating with his hands, "Kate's creeper boyfriend sent it after me! Maybe it's an assassin rat!"

"Now I have to ask the question," Peter said, poking around Topher's desk (and not at all slipping a Penthouse into one drawer while muttering something about finding a pen), "What did you do to piss off Kate's boyfriend enough to--" Snicker, "Sic a killer rat on you?"

"That's just it!" Topher squawked. "All I did to piss him off was get punched!" Now that was just not true, Topher. "Kate punched me, and he felt like he had some honor to uphold or whatever, and then he punched me too!"

He shoved the rest of the ice cream sandwich in his mouth, revealing a black eye. "See!?"

"I don't think I've met anyone with such skill at being punched, Topher," Peter said, honestly, lifting his backpack off the desk and turning around to face him. "Or should I say, 'kitten'? Apparently that's your big nickname making the rounds right now."

"Oh," Topher said somberly. "So you talked to the crazy girl."

Oh, Topher. If he had actually had a real conversation with Surreal beyond trying to kill her when he was infected, he would end up liking her even less.

"So you two had a run-in, did you?"

Okay, nothing about this conversation so far was useful, but it was funny.

And made it easy to keep Topher distracted. He did still have one more book in his backpack, after all.

Oh, it was funny now. When Topher rummaged through his drawers at three in the morning and found a picture of a naked chick, he would end up shrieking his head off. And the whole third-floor could thank Peter for it.

"When I was crazy," Topher admitted, "I maaaay have tried to take her head off."

And it would be the perfect time for Peter to test out his spy robot, too! Oh, Topher. He'd get allll of it on camera.

"If it helps at all," he offered, "She wasn't impressed in the slightest."

"Oooh, you sure? How do you know?" Topher looked a little eager for someone who had just admitted to trying to kill someone, yep.

"Because I have this power you don't have, catboy," Peter said, sitting down on Topher's bed with an audible flop.

"Power?" Topher flopped down on the bed beside him. "What power? Should I know about this?"

"The power," Peter continued, "Of being able to talk to women. Without getting punched in the face."

Smirk.

And that last, very gay, porn booklet was going under Topher's pillow behind Peter's back. Mission accomplished.

[[ ... obviously the porn hideage is NFB, squirrels. ]]

EW EW EW EW EW.

Although? At least it wasn't boobs.

Wouldn't stop him from screaming his head off when he found it.

"Yeah, well, the women who punched me are pretty grouchy," Topher grumbled. "Try talking to them and then brag about it."

"You mean talk to Kate, who's a good friend," Peter mused, "Or Surreal, who I've been getting along with? Really, it's just all about not being a jackass, Topher."

Which Peter was sort of good at faking when he wanted to?

"And Ramona!" Topher added. "She's the worst. Just punched me for playing music. IN MY OWN ROOM."

This list of attackers was getting horrifying long.

"Hey, what are you going to do?" Peter asked, idly. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here."

"Oh! Right! The thingies!" Topher jumped back off the bed and dumped his backpack full of ~~moddable~~ mechanical parts onto the space beside Peter. "Check 'em ouuuuut!"

Peter looked at Topher.

Then at the 'thingies'.

Then at Topher.

"This tells me nothing," he said.

"Okay, so here's a base," Topher explained, gesturing to a flat metal panel. "Then I can sort of build on that with these square things, and I can hook this up to make it glide on a flat surface and actually step up and down on standard-height stairs." Whatever that meant. "And I can set up a laser thingy to come out of one of the arms -- I guess I'd use these rectangley things -- and some kind of weapon for close range. Good?"

Psh. He knew he was good.

"It's a start," Peter said, critically. "How high is 'standard height'?"

Topher... did not know.

"Ehhh, like one of those stairs out there," he said, gesturing to the hallway. "Normal height. You know."

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Room 307, Sunday Afternoon

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