(Untitled)

[arcade_god]

Who: Kevin Flynn and Alan Bradley
What: Flynn tracks down his old friend.
When: Morning, May 9th
Where: Alan's room
Rating: PG

Comments

[is0latedthinker]

It's been a few days, and Alan still has yet to find his pager - it must really be his loss, as earlier theorized by Maya and Courage. But despite the fact that he'd slept with the thing for twenty years and had now lost it, what has really bothered him is the insanity of everything that's happening - the residents of the castle, who range from talking ponies to dark little boys floating through walls and floors; the castle's ability to take things and grant wishes; the new knowledge of the Grid and its oddly human-like programs. Nothing makes sense here anymore

[arcade_god]

Though Sam had prepared him to meet an aged Alan Bradley, looking his old friend in the face is something else entirely. It's a frightening reminder of just how much time, in the end, Flynn had spent stuck in the system.

He steps back to give Alan some room, then clears his throat and pulls a hand back out to rub at the side of his neck when he catches himself staring.

"Yeah. It's me. Long time no see, right?"

[is0latedthinker]

"You have no idea." He smiles, reassured - CLU wouldn't react like this; this is surely his friend. "Twenty years, Flynn," he says. Even if it's only been a few days since he's seen Flynn's face, it's not the same as seeing Flynn himself. He's overly aware of the age difference between them now - Flynn still looks like he did back then.

He pulls his friend into a brotherly hug. "I'm glad it's you," he adds, not explaining his encounter with Flynn's program just yet. Then he clears his throat, a bit embarrassed, and steps back away from the door. "Come on in."

[arcade_god]

Flynn is more than okay with hugs. Maybe he doesn't have the same kind of perspective Alan does, but the guy's a sight for sore eyes anyway, wrinkles or not.

"Why not. Let's see what you've done with the place, huh?"

He slaps his buddy on the back as they turn to move inside, allowing himself what's become a rare grin these days.