peace_n_war | Room 315, Wednesday Early Evening

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Room 315, Wednesday Early Evening

"Hey, dad. It's Warren again. I'm starting to wonder if you even have room on your answering machine anymore, but hey, at least if you've run out by now you won't have to listen through three or four lifetimes of me phoning you like this someday, huh? I'm sixteen still, but not for long. Seventeen tomorrow, dad! I've still got that job at the cafe, and I'm still hanging out with that girl I mentioned last time. She's been trying to get me to go swimming with her. Weird, huh? Me. Swimming. I don't even like the beach, except that I can throw fire around. Other than that, seventeen doesn't seem like it's going to be much different than sixteen was. I'm, uh, still not a villain. Not really a hero either, don't worry. I think I want to call Mom sometime, too, but I can actually talk to her. She'll want to know all that stuff I've been telling you, dad. Asking about girls and school and if I've followed in your footsteps and become a criminal mastermind, and if I have then I'm grounded for life. Thanks loads, Mom, right? ... Seventeen tomorrow."

...

"I miss you dad."

Warren hung up his phone, sighed, and reached for a book. Seventeen, sixteen, whatever. Wasn't like any of it made any difference either way.

[Open post is open! I probably won't be about tomorrow for a job interview, so Warren gets to birthday whine today.]

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"So, really, it was a good night for you." Okay, Warren was smiling now. A little. Not much. Smiling was terribly overrated, after all. "Not my kind of thing, but I guess I can see the appeal."

"It got me out of the room and away from stuff that was making me think way too much," Lee said. "And Turtle on student council so I thought I should go. You should have come! I could have had fun trying to get you to swim again."

"Oh yeah, between the water and the crowd of people, I'm sure I would have had a great time," Warren replied with a roll of his eyes and a faint smirk. "I guess I might have made an exception if I knew the food was going to be good or something."

"Well, we could have gone around and pushed unsuspecting people into the pool?" Lee tried. "That'd been fun too!"

... Actually, that did sound like a good time.

"See, now I'm sorry I missed it. When's the next party?"

Not tomorrow. Warren wasn't telling anyone about his own birthday for anything in the world.

"Dunno but I'll keep on the lookout," he decided with a firm nod. "I haven't gotten enough of pushing people this month. Needs to happen more. And if there's no birthdays, I'll just make up a reason for a pool party."

"Really, we don't even need a pool if all we want to do is push people," Warren pointed out. "I mean, there's nothing stopping us from shoving people around just because they look at us funny. Or whatever."

"Ah, the proactive approach," Lee said, nodding. "Something lazy people like me don't do often. Got someone in mind to push?"

"Off the top of my head?" Warren leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling and mulling it over. "Nope. Indiscriminate acts of wanton violence work just fine for me, too. Gets the point across just as well as if I was targeting someone, right?"

"Completely and not looking like your targeting someone makes it harder for anyone to accuse you of such," Lee agreed. "None of this 'oh, Warren was picking on me, woe woe woe!' crap."

"Hey, I'm not kidding when I tell people I hate all of them equally. I don't like to play favorites. People feel left out, that way." Wasn't he so very kind? "Don't take it personally or anything if I give you a shove in the hallways, Lee. Really, I just want to make sure you know that I don't have a lower opinion of you than anyone else."

It kind of made sense, if you squinted at it.

"If you shove me in the hallway, be prepared for me to start crying and throwing an absolute tantrum on the floor," Lee decided. "I think that'd scare you into not pushing me again."

Or thinking Lee was insane but same difference.

"Dude, if you did that, I'd have to shove you into a locker or something. Noise like that would distract the people in class," Warren pointed out. "Or, you know, I could just make you eat worms, too."

"I'd throw up on your shoes." Such a threat, Lee. Such a threat.

"I'd just have to beat you up for your shoes," Warren decided, smirking. "I think I could take you."

"Would my shoes even fit you?" Lee asked, peering down at said shoes. "I mean, you're a giant."

Or close to it.

[I might have to hit you with some more SP cuz I am just exhaaaaaausted.]

"I'll burn out the toes or something. I'll make it work somehow."

He would. He was resourceful that way.

"Either that, or I'll shake you down for your lunch money every day until I can buy new shoes. It'll be pretty violent shaking, though. If I have to run around barefoot for long, I won't be happy."

[Sleep sounds reeeeally good right now. SP it is!]

"You'd be shaking me down for awhile because I don't tend to carry lunch money around," he said and snickered. "You might get a pack of gum and some lint. Dunno if the shoe store will take that as payment for your giant shoes."

"Well, then I guess force-feeding you worms is right out," Warren decided, chuckling a little. "How do beetles sound instead? I hear they have a neat crunch. Barring that, we'll just have to go the preschooler route and make you eat paste."

"Warren, you hurt my heart," he teased, wincing and flopping down on his bed dramatically. "You should know better, paste will just go right to my hips and give me love handles. Not needed!"

"Crayons, then." Warren smirked and flopped backward on his own bed, looking up at the ceiling. It was a good conversation for flopping. "Wax is fat-free, isn't it? And it has the added bonus of giving you pretty teeth."

In fun colors like burnt sienna and salmon!

"It's kind of frightening that you know all this so easily," Lee laughed. "And I think crayons would be hard to chew. They'd break up into tiny bits and ew."

"They kind of stick to your teeth. I was a kid once, you know," Warren pointed out. "But crayons are more fun to melt than they are to eat. Leave them sitting in the back seat of a car? They'll never, ever come out of the upholstery."

"That's...something I never thought of," he admitted. "Do they stay the original color when they melt into the upholstery?"

"They do!" Warren was kind of a professional when it came to destroying things. "The back seat of my mom's car will forever have a purple blotch on it. And an orange one running into that... Which makes the most hideous brown right where they connected in the middle."

When he was little, he really, really liked melting things just because he could.

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