tampered | Log; Closed; Sorry For Being A Dick???

When; Today. When both Striders are awake. So. Probably around noon.
Rating; PG-13 because Striders.
Characters; Striders?!
Summary; Bro didn't know Dave existed over the weekend. And said some pretty awful things. Also he doesn't know how to feelings, or how apology formed.
Log;Bro has reread the log 15 gut-wrenching times by the time he makes himself show up at Dave's apartment. He has to. He can't let that sit. There is no universe in which Bro Strider will let that sit. Okay, well, apparently there is at least one, and he wants to go to that universe and beat the everloving shit out of that asshole who is not at all him. Who would tell Dave he wasn't a Strider. As if that was possible.

Naturally, he lets himself in, because if he was Dave, he wouldn't let him in. He's halfway tempted to leave a 'Sorry for being such a douchebag' note but he's aware that isn't going to cut it. This is such a dumbshit thing to be afraid of. Like if he gets this wrong, Dave will shun him forever. He has to find him, and face him.

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[ He didn't actually care. Really. Who is Bro to tell him who can or can't be? Fuck him. Dave should have expected as much in the first place from someone who fucked off during the hardest point in his life to die valiantly and without so much as a single word. It really was his fault for thinking that maybe, maybe things would be a little different now.

He isn't all that hard to find, sprawled out on the couch as he often is, murder of crows piled atop the arms, back and seat. A quirked eyebrow is as much greeting as Bro is going to get from him, he's far too absorbed in staring at the ceiling which is suddenly twenty different kinds of interesting. ]

Hey. [Wow, there are a lot of crows. All. Judging him. He kind of wants to ask if Dave's okay but that's not really a thing he DOES. Walking over to the couch, he stands by Dave's feet, looking down at him.]

That wasn't me, on the weekend.

[ That's right; every single one of those dark, beady eyes are judging him for being such a colossal cock. The ceiling is still really interesting, apparently. It's easier to pretend he wasn't pathetically upset if he doesn't look at him. ]

Okay.

Dave, I mean it. [Okay, that was pretty serious. Sounded pretty...uncool.

Okay, fuck, whatever, estranging your favourite person in the world is the most uncool thing. Bro thinks he can afford some exasperated anger.] I didn't even know you existed thanks to the fucking City.

[ Up go both eyebrows over the rim of his shades. If he was anyone else this would be Serious Time, but he's Dave fucking Strider and he doesn't do serious talks. ]

It's fine.

[Neither does Bro, and there's a part of him that's mercilessly mocking himself for basically putting himself on the line here. But if he keeps pretending he doesn't give a shit at this point, Dave might think he really doesn't.]

I'm sorry you had to hear me say all that.

[This is so awkward, seriously. He keeps his head turned towards Dave but looks off into the middle distance instead of at the kid's face.] I could of won a prize for the most bullshit spouted in one conversation. Nothing I said was anywhere near true, you got that?

[ No, he can't do this. This is way too emotional for him. He slips a palm under the lens of his shades to rub at one of his eyes, pulling it off as a bored stretch. Totally unflappable. It wasn't because this is emotional and he is emotional. Nope. ]

Yeah.

Good. [He has to keep talking because the moment he stops, he won't know what to do with the silence.] Doesn't matter what anyone says, doesn't matter what some asshole says, even if he looks like me. You're a Strider, alright? I mean, damn, look what a prime douche I end up as when you get cut out of the picture.

Uh huh. Pretty much the best thing that happened to your life, you don't need to tell me twice. [ Contrary to popular belief, his life right now is full of warm fuzzies. Warm fuzzies that threaten to crack his voice and break his poker face, but fuzzies nonetheless. ]

Yeah. [He steps up closer to Dave's upper half, holding out his fist.] We cool?

[ Oh. He just looks at it for a little, like he isn't sure what to do with it. Then, bump, they're cool. ] Always, dude.

Awesome. [He full out smiles for about a second and then walks away to flop down in the armchair.]

So have you got any games, or what?

[ Oh, God. Bro smiled. Bro showed emotion. It's okay to show emotion? That isn't like, unironic or something? Can he do that? Dave isn't sure he remembers how to smile; he hasn't done it properly in ages. Isn't that against protocol? Is there a protocol? Wait shit he's supposed to be answering something. ]

You me and Mad Snacks Yo. You in?

Hells yes. I might have to rethink my opinion on this place, seeing as you found such a masterful piece of gaming workmanship here.

I wish. Had it crushed down in the bottom of my sylladex.

Well done. Good advanced planning work.

[He semi-vaults off the armchair to go and turn on the TV and the gaming console.]

Knowing what was going to happen was kind of my thing.

[ He isn't going to get up because fuck off. Just kind of. Frisbeeing the game across the room. ]

[Good enough. Bro's already standing up, right? He snatches the game out of the air, opens it, and puts it into the console and then grabs a controller and heads over to the couch. His angle on the TV is shitty by the armchair.]

Shove over. And while you're at it, the other controller is right beside you on the floor.

[He pushes Dave's feet up and sits down.]

[ no goddamn it he was so comfortable. begrudgingly sits up, picking up the controller as he does. ]

Hope you're ready to get your ass kicked.

[Bro clicks mindlessly through the opening screens, setting up two-player mode.]

I'm forever prepared for the distant possibility of it ever happening.

[ goes back into a comfortable sprawl, controller in his hands. ]

Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that, I'll just be over here thoroughly annihilating you.

Log; Closed; Sorry For Being A Dick???

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