Getting lost in his own head was a regular occurrence. One moment he was sitting at his desk or on his bed tinkering with his robot or on his laptop coding, and the next he was on the floor with a screw driver clutched between his teeth surrounded by a slew of mismatched parts that he was trying to patchwork together one thing or another. The mind of a genius was a dangerous place to be and no one knew that more than himself. His work was his life—it was his reason for living and breathing—and when inspiration hit there was nothing he could do but fall victim to it’s tempting clutches. It would always start with one idea—what if I could do this—and then it manifested into a whole other monster that took over completely. Hours were lost to him, time flying by in the blink of an eye. What felt like minutes to him would be an entire evening and he would have hardly a recollection of everything that he had done until he took a step back and let it all sink in.
The sound of his music pulsated through the room, a weird mix of songs ranging from upbeat techno music with no words to Japanese rock music, and became like a heart beat for him to work to. His mind would whirr with ideas and his fingers would set them in to motion, lead by the rhythmic beat of whatever roared through his enhanced computer speakers. One would have thought he would learn to use headphones after his neighbor pounded her way in to his room to tell him to shut up, but some lessons couldn’t be learned—even for a genius like himself. Normal days when he wasn’t a slave to his mind, he would remember the plug the wireless headphones in and listen to it without disturbing people—not that he cared about anyone other than the girl upstairs who he swore would rip his throat out if given the opportunity. But today hadn’t been a normal day. He hadn’t sat down with the intent to tinker until the hours bled from the day and he got lost somewhere around breakfast. He had wanted to relax, to get on some internet forums and throw the idea out there about the possibility of an underground gambling bot fighting ring. Today had been an accident.
Somewhere amongst the throbbing beats his phone had gone off, interrupting the music with a sound that momentarily had him looking up in confusion before looking back down to the bot in his hand that he was trying to attach pieces too. His eyes would roam around trying to pinpoint what had demanded his attention, but when no answer came he fell back into the wave and let the music take over again. His gaze was intent as his fingers nimbly followed his brains instructions. Screw this, tighten that bolt, configure this code, install that chip… it was a series of commands that, almost robotically, he went through until he achieved the desired result. Sometimes he would cheer when it turned out all right, it would be enough to pull him away completely and realize that it was in fact 10pm and he had lost over 10 hours of his day. Other times, he would just hum his approval through a close-lipped smile and continue making mods until exhaustion washed over him. But today his success was interrupted. He was maybe an hour away from finishing what he had set out to do when there was a knocking on his door.
Dark eyes looked up, his heart bating violently in his chest when he heard the tell-tale sound. The last time this had happened it had been nearly 4am and his newfound friend, who at the time was keen on using violence to get him to simmer down, was pounding on the door to get him to turn the music down. His teeth bit in to his lip when he realized he hadn’t remembered the headphones, and almost frantically his eyes sought out the time. With a furrowed brow, the numbers blinking 7:21 pm on his clock, he was only left to wonder who it was demanding his attention. Samara wouldn’t tell him to turn down his music until much later and the other occupants never really bothered him at all. Easing up, light on his feet as he bounded up from his spot on the floor, he lifted the bottom of his muscle shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow before carefully crossing the sea of robot parts to get to his door.
Not even caring to turn down his music, a new song heavy on bass and rumbling the floor in the slightest, he began to lengthy process of undoing all his locks. In a building like this with sketchy occupants like his, one could never be too safe. He had to protect his work, it was all he had. Without it, he’d just be a genius brat with communication problems and an anti-social demeanor. At least with his machines he could be the genius brat with the amazing robots and technology. Pulling open the door, a hand lifting to ruffle some sort of semblance to his unruly hair, he raised a brow. He had excepted a pizza man, maybe a new tenant who didn’t know how the building worked, or even a girl that his neighbor invited over for… reasons, but who stood in front of him was neither of those options.
“L-Lola!” he squeaked, his voice cracking slightly as his dark eyes widened. He remembered giving her his address after the speeddating event, telling her to shoot him a text and come over when she wanted. It had been a bit awkward, all things considered, but if she didn’t want to heed his warning he wasn’t going to push her away. Other than Honey, she was the only one who knew anything about him portal side. She saw him in a light that rarely anyone saw him in, and thus had earned herself a place in his life—even if he refused to think that he deserved it. Like the others, when it came down to the end he would only hurt her. He tried to warn her that he was no good, that a monster lived within his skin… but she refused to believe him—and here she was proving her stubbornness once again. Blinking dark eyes at her, he cocked his head to the side in question. “What are you doing here? I told you to text me before you came over.” he stated, looking over his shoulder at the mess he had made of his apartment. It was only then that realization sunk in, and the red blush that had colored his cheeks when he initially saw her washed away completely as the color drained from him. His eyes moved down to his person, widening when he realized he was in nothing but a pair of Avengers boxer shorts and a white muscle shirt covered in grease stains and burn holes. A nervous laugh escaped as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Well… this is awkward.”