Room 239, Monday Morning
Aug. 5th, 2024 01:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
napkingGray woke up on Monday to his phone ringing, and fumbled around until he was able to locate it and make it stop making noise. On the off chance he'd managed to answer the call instead of declining it, he slurred, "Y'lo?"
"Oh, now he answers his phone!"
Okay. Now he was awake. He was sitting up, even. "Galen?"
"Where the fuck have you been all weekend?!"
Gray sternly reminded himself that Wrath made Galen's temper an absolute nightmare, and if there had been a real emergency Raiden would have...well, no, he didn't know if Raiden had been himself this weekend, either. "Is something wrong?"
"Is something wrong? Is something wrong? It's the middle of the godsdamned Olympics and Al's distracted with all these tests Joseph's having and you ask if something's wrong?"
Gray flopped back down among his Squishmallows and facepalmed. "Oh," he said. "Castor."
"Oh," Galen repeated, heavy with sarcasm. "Castor." Greed took to any major sporting event like a Wall Street banker to cocaine.
"In my defense, I was an actual sloth all weekend."
"What the fuck?"
"I worked for the DMV. That's the Department of Mammal Vehicles."
Galen sputtered a few times, then got himself together enough to say, "Look, just do us all a favor and the next time Castor calls take whatever stupid bet he wants to make, okay?"
"Sure thing." It was all of their duty for two weeks every two years, after all, and yeah, Cas had been worse than usual this year but Gray hadn't realized it was because Al wasn't reining him in. "How's it looking with Joseph? I asked the last time I talked to Al but he just said he was sure it would be fine." Because Pride.
"It's looking like cancer," Galen said, and he didn't even sound angry any more, just tired. He'd get mad about it later, Gray knew, but right now, at the beginning of it...gods, it was just exhausting to think of facing.
"Shit."
"Yeah." There was a beat of silence, and Gray thought Galen, never the greatest conversationalist, was about to make his excuses to get off the phone, but then he asked, "Hey, whatever thing you were gonna talk to Lazarus about, did he ever contact you?"
Gray snorted and picked at a loose thread on his comforter. "No. Don't tell Al. You know how bitchy Laz gets if he bugs him twice about something. If he blows me off and it ends up blowing up in his face, that's his problem."
Galen's end of the phone went quiet, and Gray silently cursed himself. Galen wasn't stupid. "Could it blow up in our face?" Galen, of course, didn't care if anything at any point blew up in Lazarus's face. Hell, Galen would probably be thrilled by such a development. Gray would have, too, if it weren't for Alastair.
"I dunno," he lied. "That's why I need to talk to Lazarus."
"Right," Galen said. "Well. Just...pick up the phone for Cas, okay?"
"Will do," Gray said. "If I'm awake, anyway." Galen swore, and Gray laughed and hung up on him, then let the smile fall off his face and stared up at the ceiling. Cancer. Shit. He'd been hoping for a nice clean heart attack or something, for Al's sake, but no, they couldn't have that, could they? "Sure would've been easier if I'd stayed a sloth," he told the island.
(Content warning for mention of cancer.)
"Oh, now he answers his phone!"
Okay. Now he was awake. He was sitting up, even. "Galen?"
"Where the fuck have you been all weekend?!"
Gray sternly reminded himself that Wrath made Galen's temper an absolute nightmare, and if there had been a real emergency Raiden would have...well, no, he didn't know if Raiden had been himself this weekend, either. "Is something wrong?"
"Is something wrong? Is something wrong? It's the middle of the godsdamned Olympics and Al's distracted with all these tests Joseph's having and you ask if something's wrong?"
Gray flopped back down among his Squishmallows and facepalmed. "Oh," he said. "Castor."
"Oh," Galen repeated, heavy with sarcasm. "Castor." Greed took to any major sporting event like a Wall Street banker to cocaine.
"In my defense, I was an actual sloth all weekend."
"What the fuck?"
"I worked for the DMV. That's the Department of Mammal Vehicles."
Galen sputtered a few times, then got himself together enough to say, "Look, just do us all a favor and the next time Castor calls take whatever stupid bet he wants to make, okay?"
"Sure thing." It was all of their duty for two weeks every two years, after all, and yeah, Cas had been worse than usual this year but Gray hadn't realized it was because Al wasn't reining him in. "How's it looking with Joseph? I asked the last time I talked to Al but he just said he was sure it would be fine." Because Pride.
"It's looking like cancer," Galen said, and he didn't even sound angry any more, just tired. He'd get mad about it later, Gray knew, but right now, at the beginning of it...gods, it was just exhausting to think of facing.
"Shit."
"Yeah." There was a beat of silence, and Gray thought Galen, never the greatest conversationalist, was about to make his excuses to get off the phone, but then he asked, "Hey, whatever thing you were gonna talk to Lazarus about, did he ever contact you?"
Gray snorted and picked at a loose thread on his comforter. "No. Don't tell Al. You know how bitchy Laz gets if he bugs him twice about something. If he blows me off and it ends up blowing up in his face, that's his problem."
Galen's end of the phone went quiet, and Gray silently cursed himself. Galen wasn't stupid. "Could it blow up in our face?" Galen, of course, didn't care if anything at any point blew up in Lazarus's face. Hell, Galen would probably be thrilled by such a development. Gray would have, too, if it weren't for Alastair.
"I dunno," he lied. "That's why I need to talk to Lazarus."
"Right," Galen said. "Well. Just...pick up the phone for Cas, okay?"
"Will do," Gray said. "If I'm awake, anyway." Galen swore, and Gray laughed and hung up on him, then let the smile fall off his face and stared up at the ceiling. Cancer. Shit. He'd been hoping for a nice clean heart attack or something, for Al's sake, but no, they couldn't have that, could they? "Sure would've been easier if I'd stayed a sloth," he told the island.
(Content warning for mention of cancer.)
