Tony's Secret Lab, Abandoned Warehouse District, Wednesday Evening

[dollpocalypse]

Topher flung the door open with more force than he'd ever realized he was capable of, his heart pounding. That was partially from having run all the way here while crying, though the helpless grief and rage battling inside him was also a close second. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this before -- like he'd just lost something completely irreplacable and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't fix it with science or programming or anything without at least a scan of Tony's brain and a wildly undeserved medical degree. It was just... just the worst thing ever.

He kicked the floor, and then, finding that unhelpful, threw the phone and that stupid orb he was still holding onto the ground and hurled a hard punch at the wall.

Fuck, that hurt.

But it did kill some of the helpless feeling, at least. Now there was just... grief.

With a choked sob, Topher collapsed down to the floor with his back to the wall, cradling his bleeding hand and just hating everything.

[[I'M SORRY. HE JUST HAS A LOT OF FEELINGS. for two, and NFB.]]

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[dollpocalypse]

Topher managed to crack the tiniest of smiles at the visual of Tony beating up the whatever-this-was. Because he would, because he was Tony and he could do anything. Maybe he had this.

But then Warren kept going and Topher chewed on his lip, uncertain. "But -- if he isn't gone, then what if they're, like, hurting him somewhere?"

[wwiii]

"Considering the amount of Tony Starks they've grabbed through the entire multiverse? I think they'd really, really have their hands full if they wanted to hurt any one of them," Warren offered. All of the bullshitting he'd done with Wesley and Bobby were starting to pay off, apparently. "But, just to be on the safe side, we'll have to work doubly hard over here, you know? To make it easier for him to get out again."

It was like trying to give a pep-talk to a five-year-old who'd just lost his puppy. Warren kind of found himself wanting to give the kid a hug.

... And decided against it.

[dollpocalypse]

Warren. Honestly now. Topher was the sad, lost puppy. Tony was the five-year-old who'd decided to touch the dark cloud of Nothing.

And the genius who knew better? That would be neither of them.

"There's nothing else to do," Topher mumbled. "His tech -- he's smarter than me. It's too advanced. I won't be able to..."

Or you could go look and see for yourself, Topher.

[wwiii]

Warren glanced over his shoulder at the lab that he'd been trying not to pay too much attention to, really.

"You know that for a fact? I mean, have you gone through any of it before?" A beat. "I mean, if you're still not sure, you could help me research. Ender has me looking up people with genetic mutations, to see if there's any chance that the powers they're using to make that thing out there are biological."

Couldn't be farther from the truth, Warren.

[dollpocalypse]

That was... almost a possibility, but then Topher shook his head.

"I don't wanna touch his stuff," he said softly, even if there was a flicker of something in his expression that said that a part of him did want to. "I mean. It isn't mine. I... if it gets fixed, he'd be pissed if I just..."

[wwiii]

"That's fair," Warren replied, and then reached forward with the hand that wasn't kind of crusty with blood, aiming to give Topher a light bump on the shoulder. "Tell you what, then. I'll let you go through my books with me, okay? I know it isn't quite the same as all of Tony's high-tech stuff, but there's plenty in there about people who have the ability to send things to other realities. And we can, uh, wash our hands, too. They're kind of gross."

[dollpocalypse]

Topher let the bump connect, then nodded. "Yeah," he said, finally managing to slowly get to his feet. "Sinks are back there," he said with a nod toward wherever the sinks were, and he started to make his way over to one.

"Why are you here, anyway?" he asked quietly, once the water was running and the slight waver that still lingered in his voice could be drowned out by the splashing sound.

[wwiii]

Warren waited until Topher was on his feet before following along behind him.

"It's... kind of a long story. I got an invite here after a... falling out with Karla. It seemed like a better idea to keep me out of her way for a while, mostly." A beat. "It's actually pretty comfortable in here. Lots of room. It almost makes me want to invest in my own abandoned warehouse, sometime."

It wasn't even horrifying if he could ignore all the science stuff. And there was a place to put the rabbit cage, over there...

[dollpocalypse]

"I'll go halfsies with you," Topher offered. There wasn't much humor behind it, mainly because, you know, his role model and favorite person in the whole world had been zapped out of reality -- but in some universe where people rarely laughed, if ever, that was meant to be a joke.

"What happened with Karla?" he asked, shutting off the water.

[wwiii]

Warren chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, and then shrugged. Why the hell not.

"She wanted to go home," he admitted, stepping up to take his own turn at the sink. The water could be totally fascinating while he spoke. Water was good for that, right. "She left a note, got as far as booking a portal and getting to the Causeway, and I kind of... stopped her. Made her stay behind. Apparently she doesn't like that sort of thing being decided for her."

You know. For whatever reason.

He attempted to sound mostly blasé as he spoke. Even while his insides were tying themselves in knots again.

[dollpocalypse]

"Oh."

Topher wanted to say that Warren should've let her go, because she was Karla and scary and stupid and he hated her stupid guts.

But... today he'd lost someone that he felt pretty strongly for. And he understood, sort of, how Warren must have felt at the thought of losing her.

Even though she sucked.

"Least she still exists," he offered finally. "'Cause of you, I guess."

A beat. Then, in a fit of optimism pessimism realism: "Unless it's gotten her since then. You know."

Yes. This was Topher helping.

[wwiii]

"Yeah," Warren sighed. "Unless it's gotten her since then."

Which wasn't a thought he wanted to entertain, really. If it just snapped her up now, then he really would loathe himself for creating that rift between the two of them. Keeping her away from her people in their final hours so that she could disappear... here.

He frowned, flicking the extra water from his fingers into the sink before turning the water off.

"How's your hand?"

[dollpocalypse]

"Hurts," Topher answered, turning his fist over to look at it from all angles. It looked pretty much healed, but... ow. "Does that always happen when you punch stuff?"

Huh. It really added a whole layer to the fact that girls kept punching him anyway, didn't it?

[wwiii]

Kind of, yes.

"Not always, but usually," Warren replied, his voice still hell-bent on staying quiet and gentle. "The rule of thumb is mostly that if you're going to try to throw down against the wall, the wall is probably going to win every time."

And now you know!

[dollpocalypse]

"Yeah, well, I wasn't trying to win," Topher muttered.

He'd just felt that weird tension in his limbs, the kind that always nagged at him when he was frustrated, and had really, really wanted to hit something. Hence... the wall.

"Is that a dent, do you think?" he asked, eyeing the not-quite-a-dent in the wall. More of a scuff, really. "I'll pay for it to get fixed. I mean, I can."

[wwiii]

Warren followed Topher's gaze to the totally-not-a-dent and shook his head a little. "I don't think it's really all that noticeable," he offered. "But, I mean, we could probably patch it up easy."

By wiping down the Topher knuckle-smear with a damp cloth.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Topher."

[dollpocalypse]

Maybe not even a damp cloth. It could just be a napkin or something to take care of the teeny specks of dust.

"I just... don't wanna wreck his stuff," Topher muttered. "If, you know, if we fix it, I don't want him to come back to a mess, or whatever."

Just, you know, two guys sleeping on the couches in there. That was normal.

[wwiii]

Hey, in the wake of the end of the multiverse? Two guys sleeping on couches was actually astoundingly normal, yes. The fact that one of them came complete with a lop-eared rabbit was just icing on the cake.

"Well, then we won't go punching his things," Warren replied. "If you really want to hit something, feel free to give me some heads-up before winding up and socking me in the shoulder a good one. It's a bit softer than the wall. I won't even hit back."

Probably!

[dollpocalypse]

So wise, Warren. So very wise.

"'m not gonna hit you," Topher said in surprise, glancing up to look at Warren. "You just fixed my hand."

Ethics. He sometimes had them.

[wwiii]

Sort of. Warren would take being punched over being bitten any day of the week.

"Well, then don't." Warren really didn't seem to mind either way. "But don't make a habit out of hitting the walls, okay? You need those hands, man."

[dollpocalypse]

That... hadn't really occured to him yet.

"Yeah, okay," Topher said quietly after a minute. "So, um. Research? And then -- I might just sort of stay here. After. 'f you don't mind."

[wwiii]

"I don't mind you staying if you don't mind me staying," Warren promised, nodding over to the pile of books that he'd hauled down here from the library. "And anyhow, it'll be nice to have some company that doesn't have a twitchy little nose and floppy feet. We can compare notes, yeah?"

[dollpocalypse]

This was true, Warren. While Topher did twitch on occasion (say, if someone were to mention boobs), his nose was rarely affected.

"Yeah," Topher agreed, reaching for a book. Then, hesitantly: "Um, thanks."

[wwiii]

That got a curious little glance out of Warren. And then a little, dismissive shrug of his shoulders and a slight twitch of a smile.

"Don't worry about it, Topher. We'll consider it even, okay? You stopped by with meta for Skyrim that one time, after all."

It had been some much-needed escapism. Warren had needed that at the time.

[dollpocalypse]

"...yeah, I mostly just wanted to play with someone," Topher admitted.

That was obviously the most polite possible thing to say there, Topher. Really.