Warren, Bobbi, Arthur | Missing Friends
Apr. 12th, 2024 09:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_longshot posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsWarren and Arthur discuss Haller’s absence over their phones as they chill with the dogs at Warren and Bobbi’s penthouse.
There was a soft ping.
"Hey," appeared in a tiny text bubble on Warren's phone.
"Quick q if you aren't too busy," it continued, in another bubble.
The blond man on the other side of the room looked up from his phone for just a minute before refocusing again on his own phone. There was another ping. It came from the space Arthur had just been looking — namely the other blond man, sitting in the same room, some tens or twenties of feet away. Ping.
"Sup?" Warren texted back. They'd been laying in the living room, slouching on their phones, while rain played on the TV. It seemed appropriate but truly, it was that Warren sat on the remote, and the youtube app popped up immediately. Ka-Zar liked having white noise when he was alone so the rain helped calm his nerves. Personally, Warren hated the rain but he didn't know where the remote was and he had no idea of how to control the TV with his phone.
It wasn't even like Ka-Zar needed it when he had his buddy to play with.
Was this what a parent felt like during a play date? Nah...a parent was probably much less drunk. Warren opened another beer and paused.
"Did you want a drink? Text Bobbi for that, I think she's in the kitchen," he added to his text string.
"No thx, I'm good," appeared in a reply bubble. Dots blinked in their sequential animation, dancing in thought.
On the floor, an elderly golden retriever sat on its haunches and patted a single paw at Ka-Zar. It wasn't fair to say that Felix was using his size to his advantage, but more that the dog didn't need to be bothered to do more as the corgi zoomed around him. Playful growls and whimpers punctuated the television's white noise.
The dots finally resolved.
"U hear from David yet? :) " Arthur withdrew into himself from his lounged position, wrapping his arms around his knees. His serious expression did not match the emoji.
Warren scrolled through his phone until he found a gif of a crying toddler. He responded after with a "alas, I have not but he seems to exist in his own time and space. I'm assuming you haven't either?" He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before thinking, deleting and thinking some more. "Does he not love us? Why is he treating us like poor Dickens orphans?" And then he attached a gif of an orphan asking for more gruel . . . but instead, it was spongebob. He thought that would add some levity to the situation.
The gif received an immediate reaction of a yellow blob crying in laughter, but Arthur's attention drifted to the window. To the signs of life below. Possibly further, out east and across the sea.
"No," came simply and incompletely, but then the words started flowing. Arthur's fingers traced words rapidly, natural luck ensuring that the auto-correct never had fault:
"I get it though
He thinks what happened is his fault
He's brooding. Probably
I've been conspiring w Sooraya
Talked to his doctors + everyone else I could find on Muir. He's fine maybe, they're worried
He's hiding"
There wasn't anything after that. Arthur returned his gaze to the window, idly tracing circles across his phone's plastic case.
"He's fine," Arthur's spoken statement cracked the silence, and his voice was smothered in a false positivity contrary to the openness of his texts or any number of thoughts working behind his eyes. Still, it could be argued that close friends develop a sort of telepathy. Nothing psychic about it. Wizened, park frequenting chess masters could glance at a position and say "checkmate in nine" because they knew the game. It was like that — friends just learned the game of eachother. Arthur was bluffing.
He exhaled with his whole body. "I don't know what to do."
"Because you're not doing anything," Warren responded, not looking up from his phone.
"You're sitting and moping. I mean, I'm moping too, but I'm not going to do something. You could. You're an adult with a credit card, or you could use mine. Whatever."
Warren then let out a giggle. "I'm sending you this video. Who thinks using dry ramen noodles is a good fix for drywall? That's how you get cockroaches."
Arthur's reaction took a journey from "I'm not moping" to "well, maybe" to "you may have a point." It wasn't a stacked sequence, happening one after another, but instead it left him stuck with some expression that was equally all three. This puzzlement was discarded quickly, though, as the hint of a grin crossed his face. Arthur had had these lessons in selfishness. "Because I can, huh?"
The man's fingers were tapping, then, and his eyes sparkled with potential plans of action. "I don't exactly have a credit card," he admitted like that was normal, "But Sooraya will know what to do." He also let out a small chuckle as the linked video loaded. There was always time for reels.
"You're right, though."
A beat.
"That's asking for ants." Warren was right about other things, too.
Bobbi entered the room, having heard someone mention the word 'ramen' which had made her realize just how hungry she was. She opened her mouth just before crossing the threshold but, once she'd done so and saw Arthur and Warren, sprawled out and focused on their phones, she softly and quickly closed it again. Another question came to mind; were they texting each other rather than just talking out loud? In the same room?
Again, thanks to many years of living - ok, guest starring, let's be honest - in the World of Warren Worthington, she wisely pushed that question aside with a mountain of others from over the years and turned on her heel, heading back into the other room and letting sleeping dogs - texting terriers? no, don't, let it go she chided herself - lie.
There was a soft ping.
"Hey," appeared in a tiny text bubble on Warren's phone.
"Quick q if you aren't too busy," it continued, in another bubble.
The blond man on the other side of the room looked up from his phone for just a minute before refocusing again on his own phone. There was another ping. It came from the space Arthur had just been looking — namely the other blond man, sitting in the same room, some tens or twenties of feet away. Ping.
"Sup?" Warren texted back. They'd been laying in the living room, slouching on their phones, while rain played on the TV. It seemed appropriate but truly, it was that Warren sat on the remote, and the youtube app popped up immediately. Ka-Zar liked having white noise when he was alone so the rain helped calm his nerves. Personally, Warren hated the rain but he didn't know where the remote was and he had no idea of how to control the TV with his phone.
It wasn't even like Ka-Zar needed it when he had his buddy to play with.
Was this what a parent felt like during a play date? Nah...a parent was probably much less drunk. Warren opened another beer and paused.
"Did you want a drink? Text Bobbi for that, I think she's in the kitchen," he added to his text string.
"No thx, I'm good," appeared in a reply bubble. Dots blinked in their sequential animation, dancing in thought.
On the floor, an elderly golden retriever sat on its haunches and patted a single paw at Ka-Zar. It wasn't fair to say that Felix was using his size to his advantage, but more that the dog didn't need to be bothered to do more as the corgi zoomed around him. Playful growls and whimpers punctuated the television's white noise.
The dots finally resolved.
"U hear from David yet? :) " Arthur withdrew into himself from his lounged position, wrapping his arms around his knees. His serious expression did not match the emoji.
Warren scrolled through his phone until he found a gif of a crying toddler. He responded after with a "alas, I have not but he seems to exist in his own time and space. I'm assuming you haven't either?" He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before thinking, deleting and thinking some more. "Does he not love us? Why is he treating us like poor Dickens orphans?" And then he attached a gif of an orphan asking for more gruel . . . but instead, it was spongebob. He thought that would add some levity to the situation.
The gif received an immediate reaction of a yellow blob crying in laughter, but Arthur's attention drifted to the window. To the signs of life below. Possibly further, out east and across the sea.
"No," came simply and incompletely, but then the words started flowing. Arthur's fingers traced words rapidly, natural luck ensuring that the auto-correct never had fault:
"I get it though
He thinks what happened is his fault
He's brooding. Probably
I've been conspiring w Sooraya
Talked to his doctors + everyone else I could find on Muir. He's fine maybe, they're worried
He's hiding"
There wasn't anything after that. Arthur returned his gaze to the window, idly tracing circles across his phone's plastic case.
"He's fine," Arthur's spoken statement cracked the silence, and his voice was smothered in a false positivity contrary to the openness of his texts or any number of thoughts working behind his eyes. Still, it could be argued that close friends develop a sort of telepathy. Nothing psychic about it. Wizened, park frequenting chess masters could glance at a position and say "checkmate in nine" because they knew the game. It was like that — friends just learned the game of eachother. Arthur was bluffing.
He exhaled with his whole body. "I don't know what to do."
"Because you're not doing anything," Warren responded, not looking up from his phone.
"You're sitting and moping. I mean, I'm moping too, but I'm not going to do something. You could. You're an adult with a credit card, or you could use mine. Whatever."
Warren then let out a giggle. "I'm sending you this video. Who thinks using dry ramen noodles is a good fix for drywall? That's how you get cockroaches."
Arthur's reaction took a journey from "I'm not moping" to "well, maybe" to "you may have a point." It wasn't a stacked sequence, happening one after another, but instead it left him stuck with some expression that was equally all three. This puzzlement was discarded quickly, though, as the hint of a grin crossed his face. Arthur had had these lessons in selfishness. "Because I can, huh?"
The man's fingers were tapping, then, and his eyes sparkled with potential plans of action. "I don't exactly have a credit card," he admitted like that was normal, "But Sooraya will know what to do." He also let out a small chuckle as the linked video loaded. There was always time for reels.
"You're right, though."
A beat.
"That's asking for ants." Warren was right about other things, too.
Bobbi entered the room, having heard someone mention the word 'ramen' which had made her realize just how hungry she was. She opened her mouth just before crossing the threshold but, once she'd done so and saw Arthur and Warren, sprawled out and focused on their phones, she softly and quickly closed it again. Another question came to mind; were they texting each other rather than just talking out loud? In the same room?
Again, thanks to many years of living - ok, guest starring, let's be honest - in the World of Warren Worthington, she wisely pushed that question aside with a mountain of others from over the years and turned on her heel, heading back into the other room and letting sleeping dogs - texting terriers? no, don't, let it go she chided herself - lie.
