fandomhigh | Don't Be Evil [Friday, Second Period]

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don't be evil

Don't Be Evil [Friday, Second Period]

The Danger Shop was set up like an old style movie theatre today, complete with ushers with popcorn and drinks in the aisles.

"Given that some of you have recently become parents, I figured we'd take things easy with a movie day today," Oz told them by way of greeting. "But not just any film. This is a hard hitting film about journalistic ethics, sexual jealousy, fraud, government corruptions, and frame-jobs. So I want you all to follow along closely and to deeply consider some of the issues raised."

[OCD up]

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"Make it stop," Topher wailed, tugging on Warren's shirt. "Please make it stop."

"I want to," Warren moaned, shifting in his seat enough to be able to reach a wing up and clamp it against one side of his head, at least.

There. Slightly more muffled everything.

"I really, really want to."

"I can't live this way," he moaned. "I just. Can't. Do it."

Good thing he hadn't been by the dorm yet. Because there was droid vomit in his bed. Thank you, Miley.

"Still hung over, are you?"

It would be evil of Warren to be grimly satisfied about that. Pure evil.

He was past the point of caring.

"Yesssss," Topher wailed. "Your wings got me drunk!"

It was a possibility. He had a vague recollection of turning Warren into a vodka slide at one point.

"Trust me, you were drunk well before people wound up sucking vodka out of my feathers," Warren grumbled. He still smelled a bit like he'd been rolling around in it. An excellent odor while he was sitting in class, really.

"'s not my fault," Topher informed him. Untruthfully. "'s Tinkerbell's. He's a bad influence."

Yes. Blame the innocent, why don't you.

"... Maybe."

Warren was pretty sure Tinkerbell had wound up with some of his clothing. But he wasn't about to chase him down for it, either.

"Think we can slip out the back door?"

The crying.

"Can you fly us out the window?" Topher suggested. "Slowly and quietly?"

"We're in a movie theater, Topher."

Warren looked up. At the dark, dark, darkness.

"No, Topher."

"Emergency exit?"

Please, Warren? Please?

"I won't be flying through it, if that's what you're asking. My wings wouldn't even clear that."

And, you know, they were capable of walking.

"I just want to leeeeeave," Topher whimpered. "Piggyback?"

AGAIN, TOPHER: NO.

"That worked out so well for you last night, didn't it?"

It wasn't that Warren couldn't carry Topher. Warren could carry four Tophers all at the same time, if he had a mind to.

It was that there was no way in hell that he was going to carry Topher, unless the guy was mortally wounded or something.

And even then...

Hey now, Warren. Topher could be a useful guy to have around.

If you wanted to end the world.

Okay, point.

"Just get me out of here," he moaned.

Warren sighed and scooted up a little, taking a look around to see if anyone was looking their way. And then he schootched back down again and nodded toward the aisle.

"I think we can slip out that way," he hissed. "If anyone asks, we're looking for home remedies for Danger Shop colic."

Yes. That was a perfectly valid excuse.

"Okay," Topher whispered back, sliding out of his seat and onto the floor. "Okay. Crawling. C'mon. Shhhhh."

This was the worst idea ever.

"Uh, right. I'm right behind you, Topher."

Standing up. And walking. Because god only knew what was on the floor of a cinema, even back in old timey-wimey days, and there were some things that even Warren wouldn't stoop to.

Unless there was drinking involved.

"'s sticky," Topher complained as he crawled toward the back.

Yes. That happened sometimes.

"Are we there yet?"

"Judging by how quickly you're going on your hands and knees, and how far we are from the exit at the moment, I'd say we'll probably make it there within five or six minutes of the end of class."

Give or take.

"Fuck."

A beat.

"Should I stand up?"

MAYBE.

"I'd say so, yes."

Warren was the most helpful! Ever!

"'Kay."

So he did. It was a wise choice.

"Exit?"

"That way," Warren pointed, displaying a remarkable level of patience with someone who had spent a large portion of the night trying to convince Warren to let him eat his wings. "It's the one marked, 'Exit.'"

He hadn't tried to convince him. Just, you know. Tried to eat them regardless.

"Good call," Topher observed, heading for the door.

And limping. He didn't even want to know what that was about.

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Don't Be Evil [Friday, Second Period]

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