AwesomeZero5
Spoopy Scary
Roman
Retired
Festive
op2024
Supermaxx
Half Pint
Neziul
udonoodlesBanjo stared into the mirror with a glare of disgust on his face.
Too slow. In five years here he'd never been too slow, too sluggish, too dim.
But he got there late and had nothing to offer from his head. He froze up on the spot.
'All because of this goddamn leg.' He thought to himself.
He had half a mind to juice now and live with whatever the results were. But being slow wasn't a reason to be stupid.
It was ruining his life and now people were almost getting hurt or dying because of it.
This school had speedsters faster, but he'd never felt slow. His grades were middling, but he'd never felt daft.
The things he enjoyed in life were kept from him, and it was infuriatingly all for a healing process which would take an indeterminate amount of time.
He could be fine today. Or he could still be doomed to walk with a permanent hitch three months from now. Nothing was certain and there were no answers.
Just that he'd be expected to suffer on a 'maybe'.
Which was increasingly seeming like a reason that was not good enough.
He'd seen what Haven's fate was, and the whole thing was like deja vu. But in his current state 'the best he could do' wasn't worth a pinch of shit.
He tried to calm himself with the rationality that his presence still had its own value. After all, he was usually the fastest one there. The second strongest after Katie. And if he was present it meant Rory could do anything he could do for three minutes. A bum leg didn't travel through the HZEs.
Even if he was late. And if the bloke could think to borrow his power and make smart moves with it on the spot in a hurry.
Depending on other people, to think how he'd want them to think. Not something he was comfortable with at the best of times.
"Are you alright in there?" Zimmerman's tentative voice called from the other side of the door.
Banjo flexed his fingers to try to keep his hands from shaking, and found his knuckles cracking with the tension. It drew his attention to the way he was hunched over in the mirror and the tension within his shoulders as well. He looked a shadow of his former self.
In more ways than one. He was getting leaner, because his diet was so off-putting he simply skipped meals.
Little wonder Calli had come to the conclusion that they needed to talk. He looked a wreck. And it hadn't even been long yet.
Nerve damage in one leg and THIS was what he was letting happen to him?
"Pissweak..."
"What was that..?"
"I said, I've been better."
He stopped looking at the mirror and took a step and a half to open the door. His roommate almost fell through, as he'd been leaning against it, straining to hear. He caught the smaller young man with a hand to his arm, fortunately holding him before he got below his center of gravity, which in his current state would have likely left both on the floor.
"Whaddaya need?"
Zimmerman saw it in his eyes, but couldn't quite place it. Not the general apathy or malaise he often held around the dorm, but the intensity didn't equate to much more liveliness.
"No-- nothing. You've just looked... You were in there for a while and you've seemed..."
"What?"
"I don't know... Despondent?"
"Desponde-- wait--? You didn't think I was bloody hangin' myself in there didya?"
"Well, you've seemed pretty--"
"Oh. My. God. You thought I might have been offin' myself and THAT'S how you call out to check on me?! Ba-- ba-- ba-- Banjo... are you alwight in there..?" He gave off a poor and somewhat cruel imitation of his smaller roommate.
"Geez, I'd hope you'd give it a bit of fuckin' gusto if you really thought I might have looked to take the Michael Hutchence route, Zimmerman. Bloody Hell. And understand, I too would drop trow if I were ever to do that, but not because it would be genuine auto-erotic asphyxiation, but just because I'd want to make it socially uncomfortable for all of you."
"Do you want to watch TV?"
"Why? What's on?"
"Does it-- Does it matter?"
Banjo paid closer scrutiny to Alex's face and recognised this for what it was. Part of him was furious that he was being viewed as an object of sympathy. A target of charity. He fought off the urge to sneer and snarl, and tear the smaller man's head off though. Because at the end of the day, he meant well. And he'd shat on that enough already. His thoughts went from their flash of horror that he may have been trying to kill himself, to the teammate in the infirmary who Jim said wouldn't make it through the night. How fleeting, trivial and bullshit all of this was.
"Guess not..."
He sat down on the lounge with the other two whilst something played. Twenty minutes later he still wouldn't be able to put a name to what it was.
"Er-- That girl today..."
"Careful. I'd hate to call back the paramedics or the morgue after we just found out I wasn't dyin'..."
"I-- oh-- well..."
Zimmerman let an uncomfortable silence fall over them after struggling to find the words.
Big Steve broke the silence. "He thinks your girlfriend's hot."
"Well..." Banjo said, with a 'what the fuck have we here?' looking smirk upon his face. "Well-well-bloody-well..."
"Had yourself a squiz didya, Zimmerman? Had a good stickybeak, eh?" It widened to a broad grin.
"S'alright. After all, you read too many comics for me to think your eyes were stuffed. Yeah, I'm on a good wicket there."
Alex looked perplexed, immediately confusing 'wicket' with the Star Wars ewok of the same name.
"You--"
He clammed up again.
"What?"
"Well, you seem to be pretty good at like, talking to women. And getting them to talk to you as well."
"Which you've concluded, because Calli's hot."
"Well you're better at it than me!"
"That's because I'm just not scared to talk to people. I mean... you're scared to talk to me. I'm not exactly hard to talk to, am I?"
Big Steve's eyes doubled in size at the lack of self-awareness as he turned his head away at the comment, and sipped at his cold brew.
"Could you-- just, I dunno. Help me out. Or help us out--"
"Leave me out of it."
"--with getting to know some girls."
Banjo sighed and stuffed his tongue in his cheek, before stopping to respond.
"Well you jokers have--"
"Leave me out of it."
"--to at least meet me halfway. I mean, when they do House parties here you two basically shut yourselves in here with a 'they wouldn't want us down there' excuse. You've got to at least-- you know-- put yourself out in the line of sight of other people. And talk. You can do that much, right?"
"Well, is there any way you could find us--"
"Again, leave me out of it..."
"--dates for the Senior Dance thing."
Banjo screwed his face up. "No. I'm not a miracle worker."
Alex looked hurt, and even Big Steve turned and made a face at the harsh way he phrased things.
"No. What I meeeean is, 'you've given me no time to work with'. People are all paired up now who were looking to go with someone. People who aren't at this point are kind of... people who are pointedly NOT intending to go with people or something. Look... you've given me no time to help you find a date FOR the thing, but maybe I can help you find someone when you're there."
"Yeah..?"
"Aww Geez, don't look at me all earnest puppy-dog ridiculousness... I'm not promisin' anythin'. I can just drum up some conversation and let you work off of that."
"Well, how's that going to help. What do I do?"
"Well, I only have the two types of conversations... I have the type where I come across as funny and charmin' and chockers with charismatic sparklin' personality and wit, which immediately strikes a chord... and the other type where what I say is immediately deeply offensive to the sheila in question."
"Well, which type are you going to--?"
"They're the same conversation, Zimmerman. In my experience its just the audience that changes."
"So what do I do?"
"Well, if you see the bird takin' deep offense to anythin' I say, that's where you come ridin' on in on your white horse and put me in my place. And none of this stammerin' nonsense. Do it firm. And then when I skulk away, you just pivot the conversation, apologise on my behalf and mention that I'm your roommate and that I'm not good when I'm drunk, and ask her how her night's goin'."
"And what about if it's being taken the other way?" Alex asked.
"Well, Zimmerman, that's when you have a REALLY important job to do..."
"Yes?"
"Yeah. If she's LIKIN' what she's hearin', then you TEAR ARSE in there on your white bloody steed and get me the Hell out of there, before Calli notices and freezes my nuts to the floor."
"..." Banjo held him with an earnest expression.
"I'm not jokin'. You get me out of there. I'm not lookin' to blow up my life."
"You know what, maybe I will find myself a table with a good view on all of this, afterall... Not like I've got anything else going on which could be as entertaining..."
Too slow. In five years here he'd never been too slow, too sluggish, too dim.
But he got there late and had nothing to offer from his head. He froze up on the spot.
'All because of this goddamn leg.' He thought to himself.
He had half a mind to juice now and live with whatever the results were. But being slow wasn't a reason to be stupid.
It was ruining his life and now people were almost getting hurt or dying because of it.
This school had speedsters faster, but he'd never felt slow. His grades were middling, but he'd never felt daft.
The things he enjoyed in life were kept from him, and it was infuriatingly all for a healing process which would take an indeterminate amount of time.
He could be fine today. Or he could still be doomed to walk with a permanent hitch three months from now. Nothing was certain and there were no answers.
Just that he'd be expected to suffer on a 'maybe'.
Which was increasingly seeming like a reason that was not good enough.
He'd seen what Haven's fate was, and the whole thing was like deja vu. But in his current state 'the best he could do' wasn't worth a pinch of shit.
He tried to calm himself with the rationality that his presence still had its own value. After all, he was usually the fastest one there. The second strongest after Katie. And if he was present it meant Rory could do anything he could do for three minutes. A bum leg didn't travel through the HZEs.
Even if he was late. And if the bloke could think to borrow his power and make smart moves with it on the spot in a hurry.
Depending on other people, to think how he'd want them to think. Not something he was comfortable with at the best of times.
"Are you alright in there?" Zimmerman's tentative voice called from the other side of the door.
Banjo flexed his fingers to try to keep his hands from shaking, and found his knuckles cracking with the tension. It drew his attention to the way he was hunched over in the mirror and the tension within his shoulders as well. He looked a shadow of his former self.
In more ways than one. He was getting leaner, because his diet was so off-putting he simply skipped meals.
Little wonder Calli had come to the conclusion that they needed to talk. He looked a wreck. And it hadn't even been long yet.
Nerve damage in one leg and THIS was what he was letting happen to him?
"Pissweak..."
"What was that..?"
"I said, I've been better."
He stopped looking at the mirror and took a step and a half to open the door. His roommate almost fell through, as he'd been leaning against it, straining to hear. He caught the smaller young man with a hand to his arm, fortunately holding him before he got below his center of gravity, which in his current state would have likely left both on the floor.
"Whaddaya need?"
Zimmerman saw it in his eyes, but couldn't quite place it. Not the general apathy or malaise he often held around the dorm, but the intensity didn't equate to much more liveliness.
"No-- nothing. You've just looked... You were in there for a while and you've seemed..."
"What?"
"I don't know... Despondent?"
"Desponde-- wait--? You didn't think I was bloody hangin' myself in there didya?"
"Well, you've seemed pretty--"
"Oh. My. God. You thought I might have been offin' myself and THAT'S how you call out to check on me?! Ba-- ba-- ba-- Banjo... are you alwight in there..?" He gave off a poor and somewhat cruel imitation of his smaller roommate.
"Geez, I'd hope you'd give it a bit of fuckin' gusto if you really thought I might have looked to take the Michael Hutchence route, Zimmerman. Bloody Hell. And understand, I too would drop trow if I were ever to do that, but not because it would be genuine auto-erotic asphyxiation, but just because I'd want to make it socially uncomfortable for all of you."
"Do you want to watch TV?"
"Why? What's on?"
"Does it-- Does it matter?"
Banjo paid closer scrutiny to Alex's face and recognised this for what it was. Part of him was furious that he was being viewed as an object of sympathy. A target of charity. He fought off the urge to sneer and snarl, and tear the smaller man's head off though. Because at the end of the day, he meant well. And he'd shat on that enough already. His thoughts went from their flash of horror that he may have been trying to kill himself, to the teammate in the infirmary who Jim said wouldn't make it through the night. How fleeting, trivial and bullshit all of this was.
"Guess not..."
He sat down on the lounge with the other two whilst something played. Twenty minutes later he still wouldn't be able to put a name to what it was.
"Er-- That girl today..."
"Careful. I'd hate to call back the paramedics or the morgue after we just found out I wasn't dyin'..."
"I-- oh-- well..."
Zimmerman let an uncomfortable silence fall over them after struggling to find the words.
Big Steve broke the silence. "He thinks your girlfriend's hot."
"Well..." Banjo said, with a 'what the fuck have we here?' looking smirk upon his face. "Well-well-bloody-well..."
"Had yourself a squiz didya, Zimmerman? Had a good stickybeak, eh?" It widened to a broad grin.
"S'alright. After all, you read too many comics for me to think your eyes were stuffed. Yeah, I'm on a good wicket there."
Alex looked perplexed, immediately confusing 'wicket' with the Star Wars ewok of the same name.
"You--"
He clammed up again.
"What?"
"Well, you seem to be pretty good at like, talking to women. And getting them to talk to you as well."
"Which you've concluded, because Calli's hot."
"Well you're better at it than me!"
"That's because I'm just not scared to talk to people. I mean... you're scared to talk to me. I'm not exactly hard to talk to, am I?"
Big Steve's eyes doubled in size at the lack of self-awareness as he turned his head away at the comment, and sipped at his cold brew.
"Could you-- just, I dunno. Help me out. Or help us out--"
"Leave me out of it."
"--with getting to know some girls."
Banjo sighed and stuffed his tongue in his cheek, before stopping to respond.
"Well you jokers have--"
"Leave me out of it."
"--to at least meet me halfway. I mean, when they do House parties here you two basically shut yourselves in here with a 'they wouldn't want us down there' excuse. You've got to at least-- you know-- put yourself out in the line of sight of other people. And talk. You can do that much, right?"
"Well, is there any way you could find us--"
"Again, leave me out of it..."
"--dates for the Senior Dance thing."
Banjo screwed his face up. "No. I'm not a miracle worker."
Alex looked hurt, and even Big Steve turned and made a face at the harsh way he phrased things.
"No. What I meeeean is, 'you've given me no time to work with'. People are all paired up now who were looking to go with someone. People who aren't at this point are kind of... people who are pointedly NOT intending to go with people or something. Look... you've given me no time to help you find a date FOR the thing, but maybe I can help you find someone when you're there."
"Yeah..?"
"Aww Geez, don't look at me all earnest puppy-dog ridiculousness... I'm not promisin' anythin'. I can just drum up some conversation and let you work off of that."
"Well, how's that going to help. What do I do?"
"Well, I only have the two types of conversations... I have the type where I come across as funny and charmin' and chockers with charismatic sparklin' personality and wit, which immediately strikes a chord... and the other type where what I say is immediately deeply offensive to the sheila in question."
"Well, which type are you going to--?"
"They're the same conversation, Zimmerman. In my experience its just the audience that changes."
"So what do I do?"
"Well, if you see the bird takin' deep offense to anythin' I say, that's where you come ridin' on in on your white horse and put me in my place. And none of this stammerin' nonsense. Do it firm. And then when I skulk away, you just pivot the conversation, apologise on my behalf and mention that I'm your roommate and that I'm not good when I'm drunk, and ask her how her night's goin'."
"And what about if it's being taken the other way?" Alex asked.
"Well, Zimmerman, that's when you have a REALLY important job to do..."
"Yes?"
"Yeah. If she's LIKIN' what she's hearin', then you TEAR ARSE in there on your white bloody steed and get me the Hell out of there, before Calli notices and freezes my nuts to the floor."
"..." Banjo held him with an earnest expression.
"I'm not jokin'. You get me out of there. I'm not lookin' to blow up my life."
"You know what, maybe I will find myself a table with a good view on all of this, afterall... Not like I've got anything else going on which could be as entertaining..."
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): NPCs
Previously: Anger Management
