Room 222, Sunday Afternoon

[wwiii]

Things were finally starting to settle down a bit. Sure, everything was maybe still a little raw for the people that he was close to, but at least Warren had managed to find himself something to occupy himself with after a visit to The Boards yesterday had gone better than he'd expected.

It was too cold out for flying, and Warren was quite happy to take it easy today, which apparently involved scribbling out things that he'd have to take into consideration while working out a reasonable budget for DOGS, this season. And then after that, he could look into what it would take to rent out the Zoo on the mainland, so that he could finally get back to Wesley about that.

There were way, way worse ways to spend a Sunday.

[Open! Warning for triggery topics in the thread with Bobby.]

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[longislandiceme]

"They're mutants, the ones who... can't really get away with living with humans. So they live underground." A few weeks ago, he probably would've used the term 'normal people'. Funny how his perspective had changed on that. "Anyway, we were there- and this group calling themselves the Marauders just came in and started killing people." Deep breath, before he moved on to the next part: "They caught him. The other Warren. We got him out, but not before they, well..." there really was no way to put this delicately, was there? "They crushed his wings."

[wwiii]

Oh.

... Oh. God. It took Warren a moment to actually realize that Bobby's version of him didn't heal the same way that he did. Really, Warren wasn't certain that even Bobby knew that he was capable of doing so. He didn't exactly broadcast it, for all that it seemed to save his life, around here.

"Ouch," he managed, softly.

They'd done to that other Warren what his father had been trying to do to him. But with added horror and trauma and agony to go along with it.

[longislandiceme]

He'd seen the evidence of that healing ability a few times, and in fact, it had even crossed his mind that maybe, somehow, this Warren could've helped the one back in New York... somehow. He wasn't the biology expert here, but he was sure Hank would've figured something out. But then he'd gone and gotten on that plane before Bobby could even bring up the idea...

"Yeah," Bobby said. And oh, there was more, Warren! "And we got to the hospital and the doctors got a fucking court order, said he was unfit to make his own decisions and since he didn't have any family- blood relatives-" because what were he, and Scott, and Jean, and Hank, if not Warren's family? "And they cut them off."

[wwiii]

All it would have taken to heal him up as good as new was a simple blood transfusion. Warren didn't know what the limits of his blood's healing capacities were, but if his blood had healed Karla, he suspected that it would have done an adequate job on himself.

But there was more to the story. There had to be. He had a bloody smear on his sleeve from a briefly broken nose to attest to that. And a lump in his throat that suggested that he was beginning to see where this story was headed.

"They grounded him," he murmured, taking a slow, kind of shaky breath.

Not that he would have been able to fly with shattered wings, but...

[longislandiceme]

Bobby nodded against Warren's shoulder. "Yeah," he confirmed. "Which, I think you can guess how well he took that. He ended up stealing a plane, and once again, we couldn't get there in time, because next thing you know he's turning out over the ocean and... boom," he said flatly.

A deep breath, and then: "And then I come back here and there you are and I was just so angry at him for just... giving up like that. For leaving. And I took it out on you and I shouldn't have and- I'm sorry." He was babbling again, in a last-ditch effort to keep from breaking down into completely un-manly tears.

[wwiii]

Warren wouldn't hold any tears, manly or not, against Bobby just then. He nodded, and lifted his arms, and returned Bobby's hug. Which was just as manly as the tears were, anyhow.

"Hey," he said, much, much more softly. "I'm fine. Okay? Don't worry about me. I understand."

He probably wouldn't have been in his right mind under similar circumstances, himself. For all that was worth. It wasn't like he had any friends back home, at all. His dad didn't count.

Boom. That was...

"I won't do that to you, okay? No matter what happens, I'm not going to do what he did."

[longislandiceme]

"Gonna hold you to that," Bobby sniffled. "Tired of losing people I care about."

Even if they did tend to come back eventually. It wasn't like he had much experience with that part yet.

[wwiii]

People weren't supposed to come back, was the thing. It was kind of what made dying... dying.

"I know," Warren sighed. There was way too much loss and pain going around, lately. And he was just sitting on the fringes, watching everyone else hurting, and it was tiring. "I think you deserve a break from that, any time now."

[longislandiceme]

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "That's- kind of why I got practically shoved through a portal back here." He wasn't going to get in to the mess of what had happened at the other-Warren's funeral, and shortly after, because even in his not-exactly-thinking-clearly state, he knew that hearing about one's alternate universe counterpart's funeral was probably new and exciting levels of morbid that he didn't want to foist on his friend.

[wwiii]

It was weird enough having met the guy, once. He'd kind of looked up to that other Warren. He'd been... bolder, more confident. Something that Warren himself couldn't ever imagine becoming. And now... gone.

It was surreal. But that wasn't something to focus on at the moment. Maybe he'd worry about weird little existential brain-twitches later. Right now, Bobby was... so not okay.

"For all the good that this place is at giving people breaks from that," he replied, softly.

It had only been a week here since Raven's death, after all.

[longislandiceme]

"I know, right?" Bobby rolled his eyes. "Especially since the reason I went back home was so I could just stop thinking about... stuff... here, for a little bit," he sighed. Catching sight of the book Warren had been scribbling in before Bobby barged in and sucker-punched him, he gave his friend a curious look. "What's that?" Abrupt topic-change ahoy!

[wwiii]

And it had been a mighty sucker-punch, too! Warren was fairly impressed. And was totally going to have to replace this shirt, because, ew, bloodstains.

"Hm?" He blinked, and then glanced back to the bed. "That? I was just... trying to run some numbers for Mr. Rhapsodos from the theatre*. I didn't really want to audition for DOGS, but I did notice a few things that could have used work, while I was working with him for Snow White, and he hired me on as a sort of... advertising, customer service rep. Thing."

Which totally explained why he was trying to balance Genesis' entire budget. Yep.



*The mun was allowed to type 'theatre' in this case in spite of her usual tendency to use American spelling when playing with Warren, because she was Canadian, playing off of a Canadian, talking about the business of another Canadian. It was in the rulebook somewhere, she was sure.

[longislandiceme]

At least he had more than enough money to replace it?

"Cool," Bobby said, and... actually meaning it. Yeah, sometimes he could be a nerd, what of it? "You need a hand with anything, you let me know, yeah? Not that- well, I know you know what you're doing but..." he shrugged. "I'm pretty good at that kind of stuff." And babbling about budgeting was far easier than thinking about, well. other things.

[wwiii]

Really, they were totally a pair of super-powered super-nerds.

"I might have to," Warren replied, offering Bobby a small smile. "Mr. Rhapsodos keeps his office tidy enough, but I don't think he's been keeping all of his receipts. I'm trying to figure out what we had in the last show that I can't find a paper trail for."

It was a little frustrating. There was a gap in his numbers, and now he was in that wonderful, creative, not horribly helpful 'making crap up' phase of the book-balancing.

[longislandiceme]

"Otherwise known as bullshitting," Bobby said, with a tentative grin.

[wwiii]

"Very careful, mathematically sound bullshitting," Warren agreed, working his way into a grin to match. "I still have to make the bullshit balance, after all."

[longislandiceme]

"You could put that on your resume," Bobby mused. If Warren would even need a resume. "Warren Worthington III, Experienced Bullshit Balancer."

[wwiii]

"Balancing Broadway Bullshit, for that matter," Warren replied, with a solemn sort of nod.

He totally wouldn't need a resume! Just dropping the name would do wonders, back home. But it had such a nice ring to it, he was tempted to write one anyhow, just to include it.

[longislandiceme]

"Oooh, alliteration," look, sometimes he paid attention in English class, okay? Sometimes. "Well, I know if I were hiring, I'd be impressed."

[wwiii]

"Well, alliteration kind of does run in the family," Warren pointed out, letting a small grin twitch at his lips. "The double-w, and all."

Three generations of Warren Worthingtons, now. If Warren ever, ever had a son, he'd be damned if he went and named him Warren.

[longislandiceme]

This was good. Talking about trivial things was nice and distracting and Bobby could definitely do that. "Guess it does at that," Bobby mused. "Although- what if you'd been a girl? They would've had to break the chain!"

[wwiii]

"Not necessarily," Warren noted, wrinkling his nose a little. "There are girls' names out there that start with W, too. Like... Wilma, or Wanda, or..."

...

"No, I think I just ran out."

That hadn't taken long.

[longislandiceme]

"N-no, I can't- I don't think I can picture you as a Wanda," Bobby said, trying to hold back a fit of the giggles.

And failing.

Wanda. Honestly.

[wwiii]

Hey! Warren hadn't ever met any Wanda! Or Pietro! What kind of a name was Peitro, anyhow? Huh? Huh?

"Maybe Wendy," Warren offered, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. Bobby's giggles were infectious. And a nice change of pace, really. If Warren could keep him laughing, all the better. "If I bat my eyelashes just the right way, and maybe sway my hips a little more than usual, I could probably pull off a Wendy."

[longislandiceme]

Italian, apparently. Which made little sense considering their heritage, but whatever, Marvel. Whatever.

"Wendy," Bobby mused. "Yeah, I could see that."