jonathanparagon | (no subject)

"Because I'm your pimp, Dude. I'm your pimp," Warren claims, solemnly.

Bitch better have his money.

Kidding.

"Stop with the questions, make with the smiling."

And Jonathan obeys, though less of a smile than a broad grin.

"Thanks, man."

Warren claps him on the shoulder.

"All for you, Big Man. Andrew and I are agreed on the opinion that you should invite her to the game."

And if they were normal boys, they'd be talking about the football game, or baseball game, but as they are who they are, Warren doesn't even need to specify D&D.

Jonathan nods slowly.

"Going by the comics, she'd probably have fun. Did she say when she'd next be in?"

"Uh, no."

Because Warren's not as old hand at all this as he likes to make himself seem. He forgets the important details like when.

"But she, uh, says she's in, like, all the time, and psyched to meet you."

Jonathan grins.

"Cool."

"And I say unto you now, as I have before: Who's the man?"

Jonathan rolls his eyes - not meaning it - and says dutifully, "You the man."

"Who's house?" Warren prompts.

"Run's house."

Warren laughs, then sighs a deeply satisfied sigh.

"So. What are you going to wear?"

Jonathan looks mildly panicked at that.

"Um?"

That's what Warren thought.

"I suggest clothes."

"Well, duh. I don't have many, though."

Warren shrugs. Can't help Jonathan there.

"I could send in my lady to help you."

Because Isabel is his lady. Because Warren can't seem to shake that last teeny bit of sleeze.

Jonathan nods, remembering something. "Yeah, she can change clothes with her powers, right?"

"Yeah-huh."

He got himself a good one.

Although she doesn't generally use her powers on Warren's clothes. ...And maybe she should...

"That'd be good, then. And she'll know what I should wear."

Warren rubs his hands together, a rhymes:

"It's a plan, Short Man."

"So do we know when we're having the game, then?"

Warren rolls his eyes.

"No. Andrew slacks again."

Jonathan shrugs.

"Stuff keeps getting in the way here. We should help him."

"Or threaten him," Warren suggests.

Jonathan chuckles, knowing Warren doesn't mean it.

"Whatever works."

Doesn't he?

"Because sometimes I miss the threatening."

Jonathan's smile fades slightly, and he eyes him.

"Nothing serious, though. We could ransom his action figures. Does he have action figures here?"

Warren eyes him back.

"Not like that, Dude. I just thought we could be like, you know, 'or we'll get you'. Or something."

"We wouldn't break them", Jonathan protests, because, sacrilege. "Just hold them hostage until the game gets organised."

Warren raises an eyebrow.

"You're evil."

"Evil would be never giving them back", Jonathan says defensively.

"I wasn't complaining," Warren says, of the moral ambiguity.