if i think i can figure things out, is that curiosity or arrogance?

Okay, first things first: after a ninety-minute shower this morning, Topher was very, very glad to be back in his normal, male body again, and had celebrated with a long day of uninterrupted gaming time. You know, as one did after recovering from trauma as extensive as that.

Now that that was taken care of, he was immersed in a project almost as important as all that meta for Skyrim: fiddling with the wiring on the TV in his room so it would quit emitting sparks all the time. Because that was getting old and also a bit dangerous, so, best to put a stop to that.

"Ow!"

It was... taking a bit of effort.

[[door and post open! and loud, probably.]]

Freshly back from what had been, without a doubt, the coolest class ever, Topher was back in his room, playing around with his AI schematics. Yes, strictly speaking, those had been part of a collaborative project with Tony -- or even loosely speaking, really, because the project had been sort of for Tony in the first place -- but come on, could you resist the appeal of poking at artificial intelligence schematics right after having a class taught by someone who was, to all appearances, an actual artificial intelligence?

Didn't think so.

And it wasn't like he was going to actually implement them, or anything. But if he was working on coding a distinctly terrifying personality just to see if he could, then that was totally okay.

Yup. Totally okay.

[[door and post open!]]

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.

Topher was beginning to accept one important inevitability: Ace was clearly going to live the rest of her life as a wolf puppy, and Topher would forever be resigned to feeding her (inappropriate starches), taking her on walks (to the roof) and cleaning up after her (not at all). It was a very unfortunate inevitability, not only because the walks and the not-quite-cleaning-up kind of qualified as work, but also because, you know, he wasn't going to have anyone to talk to in class tomorrow.

"And it sucks for you, too," he informed her from where he'd perched himself on his bed, typing away on his laptop. "Since you're not going to get to play with the robots. I bet tomorrow he'll let us make weapony ones, but nope. None for you. At all."

[[for the wolf puppy, but open after!]]

After a busy morning fighting with newbies on meta for Mass Effect multiplayer, Topher was finding himself a tiny bit bored today. None of his usual cures seemed to be working, either: he tried reading superhero fanfiction, tried attempting to make grilled cheese (there was currently a charred pan in the third floor common room that he certainly wasn't going to own up to having destroyed, shh), and tried poking at the spybot interface to make remote upgrades.

Still bored, though. Woe.

In the end, all that boredom amounted to him spending his afternoon writing up a list of possible activities for future game nights.

Laser tag
Arcade
Fireworks (might need a permit?)
Laser tag
Robot laser tag
Meta for Mass Effect somehow
Water balloons
Something with flying

Clearly, Topher desperately needed to get a life.

[[open door, open post!]]

"Yeah, but you can't just go to bars like that," Topher was in the middle of explaining to Maria over a breakfast of Mountain Dew and Doritos. "They're... I don't know. For grown-ups or whatever."

"Not always," Maria informed him almost a little sharply, though she didn't look like she had an interest in elaborating on that. "And it's not as though I drank. Which I don't, for the record. I just met your friend Kenzi and some Jedi who knows you guys and learned all about the time you shrunk some girl's laundry."

Topher made a face. "You heard about that?" he groused.

"Yep," Maria confirmed. "And did Dad really punch Peter at a dance? Don't get me wrong, it's seriously badass and I'd do it if I went to school with him too, but it doesn't sound like high school-dad."

Topher winced. "Yeah... maybe don't mention that one to him," he suggested. "Just. Eat your breakfast, okay?"

"Then can I look at your computer?"

Topher sighed. "Be my guest."

[[door and post open! yeah, i really freaking love this kid, why do you ask?]]

So lately? Topher had been getting a little bit better at getting people. He wasn't great at it or anything, wasn't even really good, and still needed to ask a lot of questions, but at least by now he knew what to ask. And who to ask, and how to ask, and just generally the right way to figure things out.

Which he thought he had, yesterday. Figured stuff out, that was. Because... Billy. There had been Ben's advice and everyone else ever's implications and he'd been pretty sure he was right. Because of, like, the scientific method, where Ben and Kenzi and Tony and Peter and Ender were all test subjects and they'd all given him data to suggest that: yes, Billy was okay, Billy was cleared, he should try this with Billy, because it wasn't like he was ever going to get anywhere with anyone else this kind of thing made people happy, and Billy made Topher happy and maybe it would be a good thing. To try it. And he'd thought he was right. Been pretty sure, as a scientist, that his data proved his hypothesis.

Except he definitely had not been right, because he'd tried to do what everyone else thought he should do and wound up getting laughed at.

So. Fuck that. Fuck talking to people. Fuck going outside, too. Today he was buried under all his blankets and reading a comic and wondering why it wasn't helping him feel better yet.

Any second now.

[[door closed, post open, emo within]]

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.]]

Upon finally returning to his room after a five-day vacation, item one on Topher's agenda was to stand on the inside of the door and just have a moment of dorkish glee. He'd been on a whole other planet! And it was awesome! And he'd gotten bitten by a weird giant bug thing and seen mostly-naked girls and half-naked Ben and Ender and almost crashed Ben's speeder, but it was all on another planet so it was awesome!

Once that was taken care of, he composed himself (though he still looked a little overenthusiastic) and started unpacking. He set Kenzi's present on the dresser, tossed his clothes and the stupid, stupid poncho into their rightful places on the floor, and then shoved his luggage under his bed.

And then his room was neatly in order (you know, if you were Topher), which left him to flop down on his bed and grab his laptop.

( After almost having gotten Peter into trouble this weekend, he felt like he should look at a few things... )

[[Door is cracked, post is open. Spybots and stuff under the cut NFB, and obviously done with the permission of the marvelous lockestheway.]]