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

Today, incidentally, was not proving to be much better than yesterday or Monday had been. Not even GLaDOS' class had cheered Topher up, which was really saying something, because... GLaDOS. But Topher had had two crappy conversations today and he was still in a bad mood about the whole kid-weekend thing, so even fun experimental science could only do so much.

Now, since brooding on the roof sucked and it wasn't his day at Stark's, Topher was pretty much just hanging out in his room with Broca II under a tent of Space Battles blankets. Not a fort. Just blankets on his bed that also happened to be over his head. There was a difference.

If, from the hallway, people could hear noises that sounded like tires screeching, it was possible that Topher was watching a car chase movie without the aid of headphones. Whoops.

[[door shut, post open!]]

After an hour and twenty-five minutes spent trying to trace a text message that had just come in on his phone, Topher was forced to conclude two things: one, it was legit, and two, he sort of wanted to crawl under his bed and never come out ever again.

But there were bags of chips under his bed and he really didn't want to find out if the chips had rodent friends down there, so he had to settle for burrowing under the blankets instead, laptop open in front of him as he vengefully and imprecisely shot at zombies in a video game.

Like this weekend hadn't been bad enough. Like he hadn't gotten a stupid (albeit newly vanished) haircut and a hangover. Like he hadn't made a total moron out of himself in front of Ben and Jello Girl and Peter, then hurt his hand making the world's shittiest piece of technology. Now he'd done something to piss Tony off too, and -- here was the kicker -- he didn't even know what it was. Because Tony already knew about that stupid fanfiction story that that bitch Karla had told everyone about, and he hadn't been mad at him after the whole lap-sitting thing on Thursday night, and their encounter as kids on Saturday hadn't been too horrible, and nothing bad had happened in frat, so... what was it?

For a second, he wondered if maybe Kenzi had said something... but they weren't close, were they? He dismissed the idea and shot furiously at zombies. The volume was up ridiculously high, but he wasn't too bothered by the noise of the explosions right now. Or the gore. Even the stuff that normally squicked him out was fine.

[[Door closed, post wide open. This kid. So much emo.]]

Okay, so no, Topher had no interest in doing any community service work at any time when it involved hard work. If it was a matter of sending an email or some money, you could probably nag him enough to do it, but when it was building houses? Not so much.

However, in an attempt to prove he wasn't a total dick keep the friends he already had show his good side once in a while, he did make a conscious effort to do one nice thing today: He had just purchased Kenzi a shirt to replace the one he'd destroyed. He had absolutely no idea if it would fit her, but it was red and looked like it was made from some quality fabric (it was polyester), so he was pretty pleased with himself today.

Obviously this break would be easy and painless. Hey, maybe later he could convince Peter to stop by his room to play video games or something!

[[For she who knows who she is! And then the other she, who also knows. And then I guess open.]]

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!]]

Okay, it was official. Fandom hated him. Not only was Topher's face now a mess of bruises and the occasional nosebleed, but it was also gray. As in fully, entirely gray. And his eyes? Black. His whole body was sore, up to and including the part on his lower back where there was now a tail beginning to grow, and worst of all, his hands (or more accurately, claws) were now fully incapable of typing.

DAMN IT, FANDOM.

Frustrated, Topher kicked at the bottom of his bed. When he didn't immediately feel the usual pain that came from hitting or kicking just about anything, he kicked it again and again, hurling his feet at the bed frame until a long, jagged crack appeared in the smooth wood.

That was... oddly satisfying.

Suddenly, thoughts of science or staying in the room -- which had grown fainter and fainter over the past few days -- were gone. He had anger and cruelty inside of him, and he wanted to do something.

Something... outside. The deer didn't seem so scary anymore. He was just as powerful as they were.

[[Open door for before he runs outside, but mainly establishy!]]