Third Floor Common Room, Sunday Afternoon

[lockestheway]

It was Sunday. A week after that whole... thing.

It was Sunday, and Peter was finally caught up on work, and if he read another essay on Pakistani-Indian ambitions his brain was going to melt out of his head, so, well. He left his room. It was a truly astounding occasion.

By afternoon he'd picked up some pastries and dumped them in the common room - it wouldn't hurt to go looking for new bodyguards, especially not after last weekend - and now he was lounging on the couch with his computer in his lap oh shut up this was an entirely fresh perspective on the 'Unfolding Clusterfuck in the Orient'.

Okay, 'clusterfuck' was not the word they'd been using, but it was kind of old-timey. 'Orient'? Who even used that word?

[[ open! ]]

Comments

[dollpocalypse]

Were there rules about non-bodyguards, or people who would make incompetent bodyguards, taking some pastries? Because Topher took several.

Then he meandered over to the couch and noticed who was already sitting there. "These yours?" he asked around a mouthful of danish. "These are good."

[lockestheway]

"Yes, they're mine, Christopher," Peter sighed, looking up from his computer. "But you're welcome to take them. Retroactively."

[dollpocalypse]

"Duh, they're on the table." And that meant something, apparently. "No one puts stuff on a table and walks away if they're not sharing."

[lockestheway]

"Unless they put their name on there," Peter said idly. "But nicely spoken, Brink. How've you been?"

He didn't care particularly much, but hey. He hadn't seen Topher in a while.

[dollpocalypse]

"Eh." Topher began carefully deconstructing his danish, separating the center part from the rest of it. "You?"

He didn't care either, but asking would give him something to tune out while working on this danish project.

[lockestheway]

"Busy," Peter said lightly. "You know how it goes, right?"

Topher probably didn't. Topher's priorities were crap.

[dollpocalypse]

Topher gave that a vigorous nod, actually. "I spent like four hours yesterday doing work. Ugh."

[lockestheway]

"You poor thing," said Peter, who worked twelve-hour days. "School project?"

[dollpocalypse]

"Job hunt," Topher corrected him. "You know as well as I do this school doesn't have projects."

[lockestheway]

Peter shrugged his shoulders delicately. "I didn't realize you were graduating," he said.

Did normal people do job searches otherwise?

[dollpocalypse]

Well. Topher would hardly consider himself normal.

"I'm in your year," he pointed out. "It's for the summer. I want to be somewhere not here."

[lockestheway]

Well, how Topher felt about himself and how Peter felt about him were two entirely different things.

"Oh, right, you are," Peter said. He honestly didn't quite remember what year he was in. "Afraid the island is going to drag you back into some waking nightmare?"

Stop sounding so cheerful.

[dollpocalypse]

"Nah, I didn't mind the dungeon so much," Topher shrugged. Probably because he'd died within a day and a half. "But this place is getting boring. I figured there's at least a chance that there's a job somewhere in the multiverse that might be a little intellectually challenging for me."

Ah, there it was. Remember that ego, Peter? This was why you two used to be friends!

"...Probably not."

[lockestheway]

If you defined 'friends' as 'shamelessly using', then yes.

"Try not to blow up any planets," Peter advised. "That seems like the kind of thing you'd roll into."

[dollpocalypse]

How else would you define it?

That didn't sound like a very fun rule at all, Peter. "I'm sure there are some planets that are okay to blow up," Topher hypothesized.

[lockestheway]

Ender would probably have some words about that - hell, in Peter's few uncynical moods, even he might have.

But not right now.

"Okay," Peter said, after a short pause, "Don't blow up any planets that are inhabited. Or haven't fired on you first."

[dollpocalypse]

"Eh, I don't know," Topher said, waving a hand like this was all inconsequential. "We'll see what goes down."

...Right.

"How's Peru?" Haiti, Topher. Haiti.

[lockestheway]

"Haiti, Topher," Peter said dryly. "Haiti. It's fine."

[dollpocalypse]

Haiti? Really? "Are you sure?"

Yeah, Topher, pretty sure he was sure.

[lockestheway]

"...I know what country I'm working for, Christopher," Peter said, raising an eyebrow at him.

[dollpocalypse]

"Huh. If you say so," Topher said with a shrug before returning to picking at his pastry.

[lockestheway]

Peter shook his head and sighed dramatically. "I have completely failed your political education."

[dollpocalypse]

"I think we have the American school system to blame for that," Topher said loftily. "Also the fact that I don't really care very much."

[lockestheway]

"Well, you should," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "Who knows, you might be working for Russians this summer. It might help to know the difference between Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan."

[dollpocalypse]

"Yeah, I don't think I'm going to accept a job offer from people whose language I don't speak," Topher snorted. "And if it did, I don't think it would matter to me what city I was in, so..."

Those were not citi-- oh, never mind.