Room 324, Saturday Early Evening

[wwiii]

Warren had just about had enough of... everything. After heading Karla off at the Causeway, after getting his bearings and picking himself off the ground and trudging back to his room, he'd done more... well, more moping with the rabbit. It wasn't until a few hours wore on that he reached for his phone, thinking maybe he'd call someone, or check to see if maybe there was new news about... anything at all, that he realized that there was a message waiting for him.

Not five minutes later, Warren's wings were pressed up solidly against either wall, his chest was heaving, and he was staring blankly at the remains of his phone, punctured clear through by his claws, and sitting splintered on the floor.

It wasn't like there was anybody left who was going to call him, after all.

Warren was done, damn it. He was just... fucking done with it.

[Open with some slight SP heads-up, since I'm still animating and running largely on energy drinks.]

Comments

[wwiii]

It was, somewhat, yeah.

"Honestly, neither did we." Really, by the time they woke up on those mornings-after, they couldn't usually remember most of what they had been up to the night before. "But we usually assumed that it was awesome."

As could be evidenced by how bad the hangovers were. And usually the lack of clothing and the presence of assorted barnyard animals.

... Which was completely unrelated to the lack of clothing.

[endsthegame]

Ender chuckled softly. "Probably a defense mechanism," he said, "I think I've heard Ben muttering about how the hangover had to be worth it."

[wwiii]

"On the plus side, I don't have to worry too much about thinking that it's a good idea to record any stupid things we do, now."

See? Phones were totally overrated in the first place.

"Even if half the fun the next day is in looking at the photos and trying to guess what in the world we were actually doing at the time.

[endsthegame]

"Something stupid and irresponsible," Ender guessed. Look, he wasn't a drinker. At all. And he didn't sound too judgemental. "But as long as it lets you guys blow off steam and nobody gets hurt-- Topher's hairdo doesn't count."

[wwiii]

"Topher's hair was a sacrifice for the greater good, and nobody can convince us otherwise," Warren decided. "Besides, it got better."

Fandom was pretty awesome for fast recoveries from things like sideways mohawks and rainbow wings, fortunately.

[endsthegame]

"And now you have me wondering what greater good Topher's hair has served," Ender mused.

[wwiii]

"... We might have donated it, maybe?"

Warren had no idea, really.

"I'm sure somebody was amused by it who wasn't us, at least. That has to be worth something."

[endsthegame]

"Uh huh," Ender said. "Didn't you also buy a bar...?"

[wwiii]

Warren shrugged at that.

"Either Tony, or me, or maybe we went splits on it. I'm not entirely sure, and I'm afraid to look at the deed. Either way, I doubt it's there any more, so that doesn't matter so much, right?"

[endsthegame]

Ender gave that a one-shouldered shrug. "It'll start mattering again soon enough," he said.

[wwiii]

"It better," Warren replied. "At the rate we're going, there won't be another bar that'll let me or Tony or Ben through the doors in no time."

Mm, banter.

[endsthegame]

"You're terrible influences," Ender told him, "Or at least Tony is. I'm not sure."

Actively trying to distract Warren now? You betcha.

[wwiii]

"What it is they say about people being more stupid in crowds? I'm going to blame it on that," Warren decided.

Because that was totally what it was. A drunken hive-mind.

[endsthegame]

"And with that kind of logic," Ender said, "I'm almost tempted to come along to test that theory."

He was not really a hive-mind kind of guy.

[wwiii]

"There definitely wouldn't be a dull moment," Warren replied, trying on another smile. "You could probably keep us from being launched through walls or something like that, at least."