#gooshie.

[choicescreen]

@l-ivestudioaudience as winston said: i ain’t apologizing for what i said. i’m just apologizing for the way i said it.

good times.

"it's okay. honest. i've been awake for, hmm," a bleary-eyed look to his wristwatch confirms it, "twenty-four hours. annnd twenty-six minutes." his voice is scratchy with sleep-deprivation. and the constant head-cold.

his thumb and index finger rub at the corners of his eyes, valiantly trying to wipe away the evidence. "i snapped at you first. only instinctual for you to do it back."

[choicescreen]

@duran-duran-esq said: don't shake your head. i'm not done yet.

my cousin vinny.

...there's some lecture-technobabble thing at the front of gooshie's mouth, but that's promptly done away with. he feels like a little kid sat across from the principal's desk. and he's only estimating what that feels like from stories admiral calavicci and dr. martinez told him from their own childhood experiences, mind.

it takes a couple blinks to get rid of the startled-deer look in his eyes.

slowly, he sits back down. focuses on not shaking his head. he grips the armrest. twitchy fuck. "sorry," beat, "i can get ahead of myself."

[choicescreen]

irving sitting at his desk and alberto sitting on top of his desk and they’re a sounding board for each other’s wacko, baseless “conspiracy theories” because one is an underground hacker who was probably trailed for a few years by the govt bc of his work slash Guy At The Computer and the other is just italian and valentina has to continually pull them apart when she sees them together bc they just rile each other up and escalate the extent to which they think everyone is involved in the hair brained ideas they come up with and end up searching the entire lab for microphones if left unchecked (and they’re all three in love)

[choicescreen]

@quantumleapt said: always made me feel like a kid.

scarecrow.

for that, gooshie throws sam a sleepy half-crescent smile. "that's a compliment, i hope."

he remembers the first time he met sam. looking back now, knee-deep in his forties, all college kids are baby-faces who think they know everything. but sam? sam was a different story: a true midwestern wunderkind at mit. they were in the same circles for two years, more or less, but never as close as they were now. how's that for fate, huh?

"look, if i could, i'd eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. you want sprinkles, doc?"

[choicescreen]

@quantumleapt said: well, i’m old enough to know better.

marty.

gooshie starts to laugh. it's a suppressed titter, more breath than sound, like a kid trying to keep their composure in the back of the classroom.

"sorry, i'm sorry. it's just that—whenever you say that, i can't help but imagine you sayin' that while always bein' the youngest person in the room."

[choicescreen]

@timechange said: why are you up? it’s 5:30.

when we were young and unafraid.

the yelp he lets out is less than dignified. sure, irving and nervous are, broadly speaking, synonyms, one way or another, but give a guy a little heads-up.

judas h. priest, this kid. a little like looking into a mirror that shows his past. "my alarm goes off at five."

he's still getting his breath back, "what are you doing up, sport?"

[choicescreen]

@quantumleapt said: “well, you go on and eat your breakfast – here’s your coffee and some meat and bread, and i’ll tell you about it.”

jack series.

" mmm. w--ow, whole spread. "

the trace of his thumb's pad nudging a stray crumb away from the corner of his mouth says that he expected this surprise, for he had already found it moments before sam sprung it on him.

he lifts the coffee mug, holding it up and inches away from his mouth. a little echoey, spoken into the ceramic: " i'm all ears. "

[choicescreen]

@quantumleapt said: sure you don’t want half?

marvin and tige.

" mmmnope. yeah. i'm sure. " the irritable-tired scraping somewhere under the current of irving's voice has nothing to do with sam's suggestion -- or even with sam.

he teeters pathetically in his seat, looking small, at the less-than-gentle nudge tina gives him with her elbow from where she's sat beside him.

he fiddles with his pen, spinning it in his fingers in some half-conscious fidgeting. it is sat on the table with a hearty click. a sigh turns into a light chuckle. " sorry. i'm sorry, sam. i've got stuff i'm dealing with. outside of work. no need to -- to take it out on you guys. "

his arm extends, palm up and open. he's changed his mind. " give it here. "