fandomhigh | Library [01/10]

"You don't like sex?" She's asking for purely scientific purposes, really. Not to make him flail.

Conner whimpers again and puts his hands over his ears. "Trying not to think about it trying not to think about it tryingnottothinkaboutit!"

And that is rather odd for an eighteen year old boy. Door cocks her head. "...Why?"

Thud goes Conner's head on the table again, and from beneath the muffling shelter of his folded arms Door might hear the plaintive sound of a whimpered "Fishhook!"

"...WHY?"

". . . I DON'T KNOW!!!"

If he's forgotten the concept of a library voice, it's totally excusable thanks to the level of trauma, okay?

"You...with..." See, no. When she's bored, she goes looking for ways to make boys flail. Because it's funny. This is not funny. "How... No, I don't want to know."

Finally she settles on, "Are you ...damaged?"

"For life," Conner says mournfully, all the while giving his laptop an accusatory glare that's probably a couple of degrees shy of melting the case. "After that, I'm never going to be the same again. Ever."

~~Oddly, Conner looks a lot like Sam Winchester when he says that.~~

"I guess." Door stares at him, unsure what to say. "...Sorry?"

Which seems underwhelming somehow, so she adds, "Maybe it'll get better?"

~~Isn't it kind of freaky? In actuality he was fighting evil!Tori at the time.~~

Conner whimpers again. "That was before I even got to the part with the sandpaper and oh my god why what possessed me to even think about that?"

~~Did she try to strangle him? If not, why not?~~

".............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................."

{to be continued}

"..................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................."

Conner ~~drowns in the ellipses~~ ~~goes mad from the sudden, overwhelmingly echoing silence~~ stares at her, incredibly confused.

"You haven't even read it yet!"

"...............Read it?" Normally she'd wonder if that was meant to be some sort of chat-up line, albeit a rather odd and blunt one, and under other circumstances she wouldn't necessarily be opposed to doing a little light ...reading, but 'normal' left the vicinity about fifty-seven ellipses ago. "You... wrote...?"

All she can think is please not with the.... please let him mean he used a pen.

Conner could have had a clearer response. He really could have. But coherence abandoned him right about the time the fishhook showed up.

"I -- what, no, I didn't do the writing!"

OH. OH that makes so much more sense. In a horrible way. Here she was thinking he's off his nut, when he's just a victim.

"Someone did that to you? Temple and Arch, who? Can't we have them arrested?"

"Oh, like someone would go around doing that under their real name? I have no idea!" Conner's exclamation point abuse is getting to crisis levels here.

. . .

"Is it really an arrestable offense?"

"Shouldn't it be?"

"Yeah, okay, it's scarring and all, but that might be going a little too far . . ."

...okay granted, Door's quite used to people killing each other without the police remotely noticing or caring, in London Below. But she's been under the impression that Fandom operates a bit more like the up-world. Or maybe he just means he wouldn't press charges?

"You're a hell of a lot more forgiving than I'd be." Maybe it's the trauma?

Conner shrugs. He's almost literally sweating from the effort of trying to be casual about it. "Well, hey, you know, if it makes somebody happy. Besides, I get this feeling it was really bad on purpose."

That'd be a bit more staring.

"I can't imagine someone could do that by accident."

"People do it all the time," Conner says dismissively. "They just don't realize they're doing it."

"How could you not realize? What, in your sleep? Or under some kind of curse?"

...Now she's kind of bizarrely intrigued, which is just wrong.

"My guess is both. Maybe not at the same time, though." Look, Conner's not the best writer out there, but he at least knows that sometimes it's just painful to read what other people put on the Internet. And he's seen some sentences that he has to believe were sleep-typed, because otherwise it's too depressing to think about them.

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