Warren shrugged a little, looking down at the cup. Normal human hands were cradling it as though maybe the person they were attached to was terrified that it would up and run away on him or something.
"It's nothing that won't go away sooner or later, right?"
Warren at least looked a little grateful about that. If Topher didn't go outside, that would be one less concern that he'd somehow show off that sixteen-foot wingspan to all and sundry, at least.
"I've been better," he admitted, finally, maybe a bit reluctantly. "Right now it feels like everything's a bit inside-out. My bones are heavy. And I have no idea what Topher did after he left the hotel, and I don't know if I want to know. And usually when I feel like this, I just... fly."
"I'm not much of a swimmer," Warren admitted, shifting his weight uneasily before finally just giving in and having a mouthful of coffee.
Thank god for coffee.
"I mean... Wings and water, you know? I'm not really a duck, so I never really spent much time learning. But I guess that's what the shallow end is for, huh?"
"Bobby tried to teach me how to surf in Hawaii," Warren offered. "I think I spent most of the rest of that day just sitting in the sun and trying to dry out. So being able to just drift... That does sound kind of appealing."
He had to admit that much.
"I mean, I slept on my back last night. I never do that, either. I just have to keep finding the little upsides until this is over with, I guess."
"And it will be over soon," Ender replied. No, he wasn't one hundred percent sure, but he was sure enough to sound it. "So take some time. Hit the pool. Try not to exercise too hard... maybe dig into the hotel's Doritos stash..."
The joke got a wrinkled nose out of Warren, which was about as close to a laugh as he was going to get while he still felt as though his bones were pinning him to the ground.
"If I ever see another Dorito again, it'll be way too soon."
So, so many inappropriate starches, Ender. Warren would never, ever unsee them.
"It's... probably exactly how you're picturing it," he confirmed. "But... yeah, I'll be happy to be away from here for a week, and if this clears up soon and I don't have to worry about Topher being carted away in my body by some sort of well-armed Brazilian paranormal investigation team or something, all the better."
"It's Rio in carnival season," he reminded Warren. "Even if he did go out like this, which I doubt, they'll likely think he's just one of the revelers."
Warren was there, and distinctly not Warren shaped, looking... mostly tired. Tired, and a bit disgruntled, and a lot like Topher.
Still.
He wasn't entirely convinced that Rio could make him feel better, all things considered.
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He'd gotten Karla's voicemails and Topher's end of the story just now. Warren was getting offered the coffee.
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And that was the moment that Warren decided that Ender was his favorite person, today.
"Thank you, Ender," he murmured, accepting the coffee with a little nod. "You are Ender, right?"
He needed to be sure. The whole world was a little inside-out just then, so a bit of extra certainty went a long way.
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He dropped his now-coffee-less hand. "I heard you had a rough weekend," he added.
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Warren shrugged a little, looking down at the cup. Normal human hands were cradling it as though maybe the person they were attached to was terrified that it would up and run away on him or something.
"It's nothing that won't go away sooner or later, right?"
That was not an answer, Warren.
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Minimalizing potential trouble was what he was all about.
"But how are you doing?"
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Warren at least looked a little grateful about that. If Topher didn't go outside, that would be one less concern that he'd somehow show off that sixteen-foot wingspan to all and sundry, at least.
"I've been better," he admitted, finally, maybe a bit reluctantly. "Right now it feels like everything's a bit inside-out. My bones are heavy. And I have no idea what Topher did after he left the hotel, and I don't know if I want to know. And usually when I feel like this, I just... fly."
Which was sort of off the table at the moment.
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Which he did quite frequently, having grown up with it.
"It's not the same, but it'll help."
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"I'm not much of a swimmer," Warren admitted, shifting his weight uneasily before finally just giving in and having a mouthful of coffee.
Thank god for coffee.
"I mean... Wings and water, you know? I'm not really a duck, so I never really spent much time learning. But I guess that's what the shallow end is for, huh?"
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He offered Warren one of the most reassuring smiles in his repertoire.
"Or you can just lay back and drift," he added. "It's calming. Well, when you don't have water-logged feathers to deal with."
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"Bobby tried to teach me how to surf in Hawaii," Warren offered. "I think I spent most of the rest of that day just sitting in the sun and trying to dry out. So being able to just drift... That does sound kind of appealing."
He had to admit that much.
"I mean, I slept on my back last night. I never do that, either. I just have to keep finding the little upsides until this is over with, I guess."
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And now he was just trying for a joke.
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The joke got a wrinkled nose out of Warren, which was about as close to a laugh as he was going to get while he still felt as though his bones were pinning him to the ground.
"If I ever see another Dorito again, it'll be way too soon."
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So, so many inappropriate starches, Ender. Warren would never, ever unsee them.
"It's... probably exactly how you're picturing it," he confirmed. "But... yeah, I'll be happy to be away from here for a week, and if this clears up soon and I don't have to worry about Topher being carted away in my body by some sort of well-armed Brazilian paranormal investigation team or something, all the better."
He was not overthinking this vacation, shut up.
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"It's Rio in carnival season," he reminded Warren. "Even if he did go out like this, which I doubt, they'll likely think he's just one of the revelers."
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