Room 307, Monday Afternoon

[dollpocalypse]

So apparently the squirrels really liked Topher or something. Two radio broadcasts in three days. Seriously, he pretty much wanted them dead or something at this point. They were horrible, horrible creatures.

But in happier news, he'd finally finished his Christmas present for Tony and he had Billy coming over in a little bit to play video games. Both of which were good things.

There was nothing weird about taking a few seconds to organize his room before Billy showed up, right? Like moving some of the garbage off the floor and all that and organizing the bags of chips and video game controllers all in one place opposite the TV? That was just manners or something.

[[Oooopen, expecting three, Peter thread is last.]]

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[dollpocalypse]

"Now I know for next time," Topher decided. "Not that there should be a next time. Because radio sucks. Why do you do it, anyway?"

[lockestheway]

Peter gave that one a shrug. "I'm providing a service to the community," he said, glancing towards Dave's bed. To chance sitting down on someone else's stuff or not...

[dollpocalypse]

DO IT. SIT ON IT, PETER. DO IT.

"You could sit there," Topher said helpfully. "I'm pretty sure his sheets got washed from the last time his girlfriend was there." Ew.

[lockestheway]

Peter looked up at him - though that didn't stop him from sitting down on Dave's bed. "Oh, nice," he said. "So at least I know I won't be sitting in any juices."

PETER.

[dollpocalypse]

Topher squeaked, and eyed Dave's bed with new horror.

PETER, WHY WERE YOU LIKE THIS?

[lockestheway]

Because he could. Because. He. Could.

"Anyway," Peter said idly, as if nothing had happened, and held up Topher's disk of updates, "I just thought we'd go over this and maybe see if you have any other good ideas."

[dollpocalypse]

"Sure," Topher said agreeably, flopping down on his newly de-crumbed bed. Yeah, Peter could sit on Dave's... juice-free comforter, but Topher was skeptical. He grabbed his laptop off the table and reached for the disk. "What kind of ideas? I made Tony something last week, but you probably wouldn't want it."

Probably not, no.

[lockestheway]

Peter's brow creased together. "What did you make?" he asked idly, like he didn't care much.

He did.

[dollpocalypse]

"Robot."

Yes, Topher. That was pretty obvious.

[lockestheway]

Peter shot him a look.

"I figured as much."

[dollpocalypse]

"It just makes breakfast," Topher said, shrugging. And hiding a tiny smile because Tony had liked it, and that was really cool and sort of a huge relief. "You... probably do not want a wafflebot."

[lockestheway]

"I'm pleased to inform you I can actually move my legs forward, operate a waffle iron, and hold a plate of waffles."

[dollpocalypse]

"Yeah, but that's not as fun!"

Plus waffle irons didn't actually make coffee. Or shoot lasers. Deal with it, Peter.

[lockestheway]

"Whatever," Peter said, judging this topic to be sincerely not worth his time. "I was looking at the new AI scripts you came up with..."

[dollpocalypse]

"Right! Yeah. So what you want to do with those is, um --"

And that was all Topher apparently had to say on the subject for right now. What with being a gopher.

[lockestheway]

"...Topher?"

Peter stared.

"...You just defied the law of conservation of mass. Just so you know."

[dollpocalypse]

Topher squeaked and looked up at Peter with sad gopher eyes.

He did not care for this being-a-rodent thing at all.

[lockestheway]

"I can't believe you just turned into a gopher," Peter said, leaning... uh, down, to see him. "No, scratch that. I can't believe I'm taking this so calmly."

[dollpocalypse]

So... Topher was just going to be scuttling over to Peter and possibly trying to be lifted.

Look, he wasn't going to take care of himself until this wore off. He couldn't even really do that when he was human-shaped.

[lockestheway]

"Oh, now what are you doing?" Funny. Peter's feelings about keeping Topher were about the opposite of that.

[dollpocalypse]

Sad gopher eyes. Feel them, Peter. Feel their sad, sad gopher power.

[lockestheway]

"That doesn't actually work on me," Peter informed the sad gopher eyes. "I deal with squirrels every week."

[dollpocalypse]

But squirrels were gross, and Peter had a history of being mean to them. Topher was a gopher. Way more adorable.

So he took his sad gopher eyes and nodded toward a bag of chips, as if to say, 'Pretty please?'

[lockestheway]

Peter rolled his eyes, and was about to open his mouth to point out that no, he was not going to take him home, when he realised two things.

One: if he left Topher to his own devices, he would probably wind up realising that his current form made it very easy to spy on Tony or sneak into his pants or something, and there was a certain level of self-destructive idiocy Peter supposed he had to pretend if Topher was going to remain of any use.

Two: he was talking to a gopher, and that was fucking stupid.

"Fine, but I'm getting you a Habitrail," he said.

[dollpocalypse]

Here, Peter, have a happy gopher squeak.

And then Topher proceeded to attempt to gather some wires to bring with him. To chew on or play with or something.