Room 318, Thursday Morning

[lockestheway]

Peter had come back from radio about half an hour ago, shut his door, and collapsed on his bed. If he was completely honest with himself, big rousing speech or not, what he really wanted was to crawl under his blanket and refuse to leave until this thing was over and his world came back. He was a public relations man - and right now, there was

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[dollpocalypse]

"I'm pretty sure you're a robot," Topher announced from the doorway, tossing a bag of chips at Peter.

Which, yes, was a way of saying that his radio rocked.

[lockestheway]

"If so, don't come at me with a wrench, or I'll give you yet another black eye," Peter said, catching the bag of chips.

[dollpocalypse]

"Nah." Topher came in and flopped down on the empty bed, getting started on his own bag of chips. Please, like he'd give Peter all his snacks. "You're a really advanced model, I'm pretty sure."

[lockestheway]

Peter opened up his bag. "I do pride myself in being so advanced that what I do almost seems like magic to a layman."

[dollpocalypse]

"I'm pretty sure those girls who did radio yesterday and the day before are fooled," Topher decided. "'Cause of how they were screaming and crying and you were just, like, meta for Shaft."

This was a bit of an exaggeration, but then, it was Topher.

[lockestheway]

Hey, Peter was going to take everything he could get right now just to keep himself from hiding under the blankets for the next month.

He shrugged. "Troubled times," he said, "There's no reason to get everyone worked up - that just keeps us from doing something."

[dollpocalypse]

Topher sized him up, a chip halfway to his mouth, then nodded. "Yep," he pronounced. "Robot."

He rolled onto his back and took in the ceiling, because the matter of this not actually being his room was but a pesky detail. "So you're not actually freaked out at all?" he asked, nothing in his voice but curiosity.

[lockestheway]

"Nah," Peter lied easily. He bit down on another one of his chips. "Why, are you?"

[dollpocalypse]

Topher shrugged. "Not a ton? I mean, I'm pretty sure my world's fine. But then people who are usually pretty calm started getting involved, so... not sure what that's about."

[lockestheway]

"Maybe they lost a couple of people," Peter suggested. "Everyone's got their Achilles heel. Most of the time, that's other people."

[dollpocalypse]

"Like your sister for Ender?"

Like his sister for him, Topher. Idiot.

[lockestheway]

"Yep," Peter drawled. "Those two were always ridiculously close. No wonder he lost his shit."

PETER WAS FINE.

[dollpocalypse]

"...he did?"

PETER WAS NOT FINE. UNLESS HE REALLY WAS A ROBOT.

[lockestheway]

"Well, in an Ender kind of way," Peter said, waggling his hand.

[dollpocalypse]

"Which means...?" Okay, Topher was stumped. "What does that mean?"

[lockestheway]

"That you can't really... tell... he's wigging out?"

Pun not intended. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."