dollpocalypse | Room 307, Friday Morning

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Room 307, Friday Morning

Topher, ladies and gentlemen, was not having a great morning.

His morning (or afternoon, really) started out with a loud groan of protest against just about everything. Then, before his eyes could even open but just as the events of last night started to come back to him, he shrieked.

And then his ankle throbbed and he shrieked again.

Ohhhh, god. Oh god oh god oh god. Today was THE WORST EVER. He thought about getting up and taking something to get rid of that horrible headache of his, not to mention the severe ankle pain, but... didn't. He just rolled over onto his stomach and whimpered quietly into the pillow.

[[Post is as open as open can be! Door is closed but unlocked.]]

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"'s unlocked!" Topher called. Fairly miserably. Then winced. Too loud!

Belatedly, he hoped his roommate wasn't around. Whoops.

If he was, he'd get a bouncy 'hey.'

Kenzi was scolding as she opened the door. "Topher! Security! These locks are lame, but you can at least make the token effort." She wandered over with a glass of something large and red-based in one hand, and toast and a spray bottle of water gripped in the other. "Drink this."

Because that always ended so well.

"You brought me home!" accused. And that was just an assumption, anyway. It was entirely possible that he could've stumbled here by himself. He just didn't remember any of it.

Then he got a look at the large and red-based item and recoiled. "I don't want it."

Just instinct, after last night.

"Yes you do." Kenzi glanced at it. "It's not blood or anything. Just something to make you recover." And pay back the vomiting. Both! It was magic like that!

And oh, right, she had. Oh well. "You've been awake a while, you should have fixed that. Aren't you glad I didn't leave you in a Common Room for anyone to find and draw on?"

See! She looked out for him!

Topher squinted at the red whatever-it-was, then gingerly reached out for it. It couldn't possibly make him feel any worse, could it?

"...yes," he grumbled. "I think Peter wants me dead."

This was true.

"Why? You didn't even declare your love for him," Kenzi said, perplexed. "Or tell him he smelled like laundry."

That had been funny!

It was milk, orange juice, blueberries, strawberries, bananas, a handful of vitamins and ibuprofen, and cayenne pepper. That last was mostly also for the funny.

"I know! I don't get it!" Topher sniffed the drink. "Look what he texted me!"

And then he took a sip, swallowed, and then his eyes bulged.

"Spicy!" he wailed. See what you did, Kenzi?

"Driiiiink it," Kenzi threatened, then read the text and laughed. Whoops. "Yeah, he's pissed. Make him another special to-order spy-thingy and he'll get over it, I'd guess. Or, you know. Make you pay some other way." She grinned. "How's your ankle?"

"Huuuuuurts." Topher took another sip of the horrible smoothie, winced, and went back to drinking it. He was so malleable.

"...what do you think he'd do to me?"

Now, there was a ~~fun~~ alarming thought.

Like Play-Dough! Which was one reason Kenzi liked hanging out with him.

"Make you hack somewhere he's interested in, or build him an android duplicate so he can be two places at once," Kenzi said promptly. "Or shave your head. One of those."

"But I like my hair! It does cool things!" Yes, that would be Topher reaching a hand up to pat his hair flat. It continued to stand straight up. "But I could do the hacking! If you see him, can you tell him that? I dunwanna die!"

"Don't worry, Topher. I'll make sure the right parties will be held responsible."

Which meant she'd throw him under the bus if Peter was *really* pissed, but might not if she was feeling generous. "I won't let you die."

There were always escape and rescue plans!

"'Cause you liiiiiike me?"

Wait. That reminded him of something.

"...did I say I loved Tony?"

Love, Topher. Present tense.

"Yes! And that he was bad at sex," Kenzi said helpfully. "But that didn't make it on the Radio."

Like? Yes? Sort of? The way you like someone who was essentially harmless and funny, even if they could be massively irritating. After all, that was one of Kenzi's things, being irritating.

"Good." But no denial!

Topher leaned back against his headboard, sipping the horrible smoothie all the while.

"...who else did I call?" Not that he'd be sending out apologies or anything.

"Peter, Tony... Ben?" Yes, that was right. "You told him he smelled like laundry. Which, I hate to break it to you, Topher, but most people like the smell of fresh-from-the-dryer clothes. And..." Oh yeeeah. "Irish Guy? Nate?"

Really, she should've stopped him. "I was pretty buzzed. Maybe I'm remembering wrong."

"My clothes get dry-cleaned," Topher offered. Like he could possibly handle doing that himself.

On that last name, he moaned and buried his head in his hands. "I called Irish Guy? Noooooo!"

"Of course you do." It was stuff like that that allowed her to torture him with impunity, even if she did like him. "...and yes, yes you did. Only you said you should be friends! Not kissing!" See, wasn't that so much better?

Kenzi was a mean, mean torturer. Very mean.

"I don't want to be his friend!" Topher wailed. "He talks about sex! He was looking for -- you know -- " He lowered his voice. "Adult films on the TV!"

Yeah, he wasn't going back up to the fourth floor anytime soon.

Kenzi chortled and pushed the hangover remedy again. "Seriously? Ha! That takes some guts." Heee. "What was it he 'showed you', anyway?" Out of consideration for his sensibilities, Kenzi did not get more explicit than: "His thing?"

Ugh. Another reluctant sip, then gagging. Gross.

"He didn't show me anything," Topher said, tilting his head. "We just, you know." He waved a hand awkwardly. "At Tony's wedding."

Kissed. But oops, that would probably sound like he meant sex.

"Action under the dessert table?" That sounded like a weird euphemism even to Kenzi, but she ignored that. "Because Tony and I were mean, yeah, I remember that. So now you want to be friends. Or not."

Then she poked Topher. "You vomited on me. Do you remember me telling you you were going to get hit?"

Topher let out a completely undignified squeaking noise and hid under the blankets like a three-year-old.

He didn't want to get hit.

Oh that was just sad. Sad, Topher. Sad.

"Okay. You're learning to duck. Since you learned that so well, we'll consider it that I hit you without hitting you." Kenzi unfolded to get to her feet, then poked him again. "Dry cleaning bill. For my clothes. You're paying it, dude."

Topher resurfaced. Tentatively! When he saw that she didn't appear to want to kill him, he just kept the blanket pulled up to his chest and leaned back against the headboard.

"'Kay," he said agreeably. That was a first.

Then he peered up at her, looking surprisingly young and innocent. "Does the tattoo look okay?"

Room 307, Friday Morning

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