singularityderp | so there was this once drunk party last night...

[It's not exactly every day that Anon sleeps without his suit on. Or that he does anything with any part of it decompiled, actually. Though hearing Gibson gets him to shift the pillow just a bit, peeking out from under it.

Yep. No helmet either, Gibson.]

... you sound terrible.

[Not that Anon sounds any better. Also ow, why is everything loud?]

[Gibson just groans, glancing briefly over at Anon--or the fraction of Anon's face that's visible (it'll register in a minute, don't worry; he's just not firing on all cylinders right now)--before mashing his face back into the mattress.]

Good, 'cause I feel like I just got hit with a Recognizer.

[Give him a second to boot up some more, Anon. He'll realize what he said in a moment or two.]

... was that tactless.

[Yes.]

[Yes. Yes it was, Gibson. But the most disapproval that Anon can manage is gently nudging him with an elbow and looking annoyed. As annoyed as he can look when he just wants to find an effective way to hide from the hammering in his head. Aaaaagh.]

Little bit.

[Or a lot bit, even if he doesn't really remember it at all. But he isn't in any shape to rag on Gibson right now.]

Sorry. [At least he sounds mostly contrite? (It doesn't take much to sound pitiful with the sheer, throbbing pain in his head, though.)]

... wait, where's your helmet?

[See Gibson. See Gibson's train of thought bounce around wildly until he finds some way of making this situation make sense.]

[Well, that was an abrupt change of conversation. At least Anon doesn't know how to be baffled by this right now.]

... I do not know.

[Presumably decompiled with the rest of his clothes. He partially lifts up the pillow, squinting at Gibson in the light. Okay yeah, this hurts more. He's just gonna... ostrich his happy self back under the pillow now.]

Oh. ... 'kay.

[On second thought, trying to figure all this out is too much effort right now, and Gibson's not sure he cares. Don't mind him, Anon; he'll just be scooting a little bit closer and burying his head under his pillow now.

Maybe sleeping--or even just the darkness--will make his head feel less like someone's stabbing him repeatedly.]

[Anon only vaguely recalls something about seven minutes in heaven... but if it led to this hell he doesn't want to know.

He nudges back up against Gibson, closing his eyes for a moment. He isn't getting back to sleep with this throbbing pain in his head, but he can at least pretend he will.]

Why is it so bright?

[Can't they close the shade from here or something?]

[Hey, don't look at Gibson for answers. Everything's pretty much a blur, and it doesn't feel as though he can access the data from last night on his disc. This should really be slightly more worrying than it currently is to him.]

Think it's the sun.

[... Gibson will stand up if he has to. But only if he absolutely has to.]

[Anon assumes that his wearable will have something, even if he's certain his disc has nothing about the night on it. He'll worry about that later.]

... Am going to close the curtains.

[He's used to suffering, what's a little more in the name of making it go away more quickly so he can get back to snuggling Gibson while half-asleep.]

[... Anon, honey, if Gibson could see that train of thought? He'd try to make you sit right back down so he could close the curtains for you.

Since he's not psychic, though, he's more than happy to just lie here and let you do it.]

Mmkay. Have fun.

[If people in this house were psychic, things would get so, so uncomfortable for Anon.

As it is, he just slowly hauls himself out of bed and pads towards the window, keeping his eyes closed most of the way. He saw enough of it when he was getting up to navigate.

Except for that stuff on the other side of the bed he couldn't see. But he picks his way through carefully and squints at the window as he shuts the curtains. Ahh, much better.]

[Gibson peeks one eye out from the mattress as Anon heads towards the windows, trying not to squint too much at the hideously bright sunlight. ... what? It's not like he ever really gets a chance to see Anon out of armor. Ever. ~~And he's not even close to fat, so Abraxas can just sit down and shut it.~~

The light immediately becomes more bearable once Anon shuts the curtains, and Gibson turns his head to one side, completely giving up any pretense of subtly watching Anon. (It's not like he was subtle in the first place, however.)]

Thanks.

[His voice is slowly starting to sound better as he talks more, although he still sounds pretty rough around the edges.]

[Anon hadn't bothered to recompile his armor yet because it felt like too much of a hassle, but once he realizes that Gibson is watching him he suddenly becomes self-conscious. He's being stared at. Is there something wrong with him? Is his circuitry weird or something? ~~Oh User, is he really fat like Abraxas said?~~

The sudden lack of Gibson's bare-minimum subtlety doesn't precisely help, either. Anon nods once, nervously tucking loose strands of hair behind his ears as he starts moving toward the other side of the bed again. ... which angle of getting back is the least awkward? Wait. Gibson will be staring anyway. Oh User.]

No problem.

[Still rough, still staticky.
Still not thinking about how nice Gibson sounds with his voice rough like that.

Totally not thinking about that.]

[Hey, it's not staring. Nor is it really ogling ~~much, anyway~~. He just wants to see what Anon looks like, and really remember it this time--without the haze and not-so-subtle wrongness of infection, anyway.]

Want a sheet?

[Don't think he didn't notice that sudden embarrassment, Anon... and it's never too early to start teasing him a little, right?]

[... Is he being teased? He's being teased isn't he. C'mon Gibson, modesty is a good trait to have. We can't all be you. Anon perks slightly at the mention of a sheet, but calculates a response.]

Willing to lose the view?

[This is the most snark that he can manage. And that is a 'yes, dear Users, YES'. He's not used to being unclothed ever, save when he wasn't entirely himself.]

[You can't all have Gibson's fantastic six-pack, you mean.

Gibson just rolls his head over to the other side to stare at Anon, just grinning. (The smugness of his expression is ruined somewhat by the fact that he's only barely decent thanks to the mess of blankets around him, though. Not even Gibson can manage to look all that smug when mostly naked.)]

Think I'll live.

[Gibson just shakes out a corner of a blanket from the tangle around him and holds it out to Anon. Moving makes his head throb even more--and he didn't think that was possible until right now--but hey, he's still willing to be nice. You're welcome.]

[Nope. Some of us have to make do with fantastic asses and calves.

Anon straightens slightly at that barely-smug grin, smiling back in spite of the fact that is still naked and being stared at. By his best friend. (Whom Anon is totally not certain that Gibson is just as undressed under those blankets because he's totally not thinking about that.)]

Thank you.

[The pain in his head, even from moving, is manageable enough. He won't be doing wall runs or anything, but he can handle walking and turning his head and grabbing that blanket. He swiftly wraps it around himself in a makeshift toga, walking the rest of the way around to crawl back in on his side of the bed.]

[Oh, don't worry. Gibson noticed that fantastic ass, thanks very much.

Once Anon slides back into the bed, Gibson's more than happy to just lie there--for a minute, anyway.]

This's probably a stupid question, but what happened last night?

[Anon comes by it honestly, at least. Dem Buns are all-original coding.

He takes that moment of laying, happily, squirming around to lay on his side. The question earns a blink and furrowed brow as he concentrates. Hrm.]

Cannot remember.

[There was blue involved, but that's all he's got.]

You either?

[Hey, now. Gibson's abs are original coding, too--despite the whole Bostrumite tendency towards self-modification. He walked out of the Sea of Simulation with those abs, and anyone who implies otherwise is a dirty liar.

... oh, Anon, you're so much easier to read now that Gibson can see your face. (Not that you were hard to read before, but... facial expressions! Besides, you're adorable when your face is all scrunched up when you're trying to think.)]

Nope. Bad sign?

[As if Anon isn't a book even with the armor and helmet in place, to the people that know enough to read him. He broadcasts like no one's business. (And I do not scrunch my face up... do I?)]

... Maybe. Do not usually... forget things.

[This is worrisome for him. Anon remembers everything with (near) perfect clarity. Except last night.]

... Might be on our discs?

[Much as he's reluctant to go to them, but still. Best source of information.]

[(Yeah, you do. Kinda. It's cute, though.)]

Worth a shot. Whose do you want to check first?

[Gibson's pretty sure he knows the answer to this question already, but he'll just go ahead and offer anyway. Besides, he's got his head pillowed on his arms rather than the mattress now that the curtains are closed; it's not like his disc will be hard to reach if he needs to.]

[(Uhm. Um well. Th-thank you.)

Anon does seriously consider it, even if he's refused to remove his disc for examination in a good long while. He doesn't particularly want to put either of them in this position, really. But in the end, his own hesitance wins out.]

Yours. Please?

[He'll work extra-hard on the whole contact phobia thing if you do, Gibson.]

[Not quite the answer Gibson was expecting, but all right. He's not terribly concerned about letting Anon use his disc (very) temporarily; it's not like he doesn't trust Anon, after all, and he's sitting right here.

Gibson reaches one arm back to unhook his disc, then holds it flat in between the two of them and triggers the replay mode.]

Knock yourself out.

[He's still not sure about letting anyone near his own disc since Zone 7. Even Flynn would get reluctance from him. At the very least Anon knows the amount of time that's missing (that he's missing anyway) and once he props himself up on one elbow it doesn't take him long to skim through to there.]

Should be around here...

[Which it i- oh. Uhm.
Well that's interesting.]

Did not know you were that flexible. Or that I...

[Could bend quite like that. Aahahahah oh, so embarrassed.]

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