warringtonchaser: I can only hope it's dinner. 

Auto response from montaguechaser: Off slitting my wrists in the 
bathtub. Or grabbing dinner. Chris, you know which.

warringtonchaser: Still care to talk about what's been bothering you?
montaguechaser: Beginning to wish it wasn't dinner. ...all right. Sure. 
Why the hell not. There's the  odd chance that it might actually help.
warringtonchaser: 'The odd chance?' I'm glad you have such faith in me. 
montaguechaser: Not lack of faith in you, Chris, lack of faith in myself.
warringtonchaser: I'm waiting for an explanation of the sudden ego 
deflation.
montaguechaser: You remember Ran, naturally. Therefore, if you 
remember Ran, you remember what happened with Ran. 
warringtonchaser: Um. Vaguely. 
montaguechaser: ...well. Therein lies the rub.
warringtonchaser: Just because you
warringtonchaser: 're named Tybalt doesn't give you the right to say 
things like 'therin lies the rub', you know. 
montaguechaser: ...oh, bloody-- I didn't even know I'd-- for Merlin's 
sake.
montaguechaser: Let's just-- move on from that. And stay on topic.
warringtonchaser: Yes. On topic. 
montaguechaser: Since you don't remember it, let me refresh your 
memory. Remember that year when I was. You know. Happy?
warringtonchaser: Even more vaguely. 
warringtonchaser: That was...er, some time ago.
montaguechaser: Yes, yes, I know it's hard to remember, but...think 
back.
warringtonchaser: Yes, yes, I remember. 
montaguechaser: Good boy. Good job. Now, remember that period of 
about a year where I was the least happy I'd ever been? The one right 
after the one where I was happy? ( And yes, this is bitterness, but 
please, it shouldn't be directed at you. )
warringtonchaser: Oh, God, do I remember that. You mean the period in 
which you did very little else except get smashed and sniffle all over my 
shoulders? 
montaguechaser: Right. Comfy shoulders, yes. Good times, no. Very 
drunk, always.
warringtonchaser: *nods understandingly* That's what the shoulders are 
there for. 
montaguechaser: Right. With the help of said shoulders, and said 
alcohol, and very long periods of time where being sober was not an 
option...I got over it, and got back to being my fucking self again.
warringtonchaser: 'It.' 
warringtonchaser: Define 'it.'
montaguechaser: .....it being...us. Ran'n'me. And the ... lack thereof. It 
ended, shall we say...badly. Atrociously. Hellishly.
warringtonchaser: Oh. 
montaguechaser: ......yes.
warringtonchaser: Well, that explains...some...things....
montaguechaser: ...right. Yeah. Some things. This ... now ... thing, for 
example.
warringtonchaser: What, you mean he's...
montaguechaser: I don't know what the Hell he's...
warringtonchaser: I'll kill him. 
montaguechaser: I appreciate the offer, but I don't want you put away 
on his account.
warringtonchaser: I don't want him. Making you...
montaguechaser: ...unhappy? I'm the one making me unhappy.
warringtonchaser: Well, you're making yourself unhappy *because* of 
him. 
warringtonchaser: Maybe we should take Terence up on his offer, get out 
of Hogsmeade. 
montaguechaser: ...I'm making myself unhappy because...yeah. 
Because of him. Because of something. Merlin, I don't know. I think we 
should take Terence up on his offer, too.
warringtonchaser: Does this mean I *don't* have to kill Derrick?
montaguechaser: ...you'd better not. But the effort is noted, and 
appreciated.
warringtonchaser: Can I beat on him a little?
montaguechaser: If you promise to be absolutely civil about it.
warringtonchaser: What did he do to you?
montaguechaser: As much as I'd like to think so, it wasn't all his fault. 
It was mutual idiocy on both parts, and it left both of us miserable.
warringtonchaser: He seems to be considerable less miserable than you 
are, at the moment, anyway.
montaguechaser: Yeah. Well. Who knows. Maybe I'm just the world's 
biggest fucking twat -- wait. I am.
warringtonchaser: No, you're not. 
montaguechaser: Hate to disagree but yes, yes, I am.
warringtonchaser: No, no you're not. 
warringtonchaser: And I refuse to be moved on that point. 
montaguechaser: Bloody stubborn... Right. Fine. All right. It doesn't 
even matter. He's not bothered, I am, I don't even...fucking care.
warringtonchaser: Um. Obviously you do care. And it's all his fault, which 
means I'm not too inclined to be concerned about his welfare right now.
montaguechaser: ...I can't even argue with that now. I'm getting a 
fucking headache. I'm only going to give you one, too, and that's the last 
thing I want to do.
warringtonchaser: I just. Want to go over there and break his arms. 
montaguechaser: Merlin. Don't, it isn't worth even thinking about it.
warringtonchaser: Well, I'm feeling particularly wrathful in that 'someone 
has wronged my roommate/best friend and they will BURN' sort of way. 
montaguechaser: ...I can always count on you. I know that. I just don't 
want you getting into any Hell because of me, all right?
warringtonchaser: I'll make an effort to control myself. 
montaguechaser: ...good. I know you will. I'll just-- steer clear of him. 
All right?
warringtonchaser: Please do. Along with not wanting to discover your 
bloody corpse one morning because of the mess to clean up, I think I'd also be 
rather upset. 
montaguechaser: Yeah. I know. S'the one thing that always keeps me 
going, don't forget that. 
warringtonchaser: Would this not be a good time to yell  'group hug?'
montaguechaser: ...well, being appropriate was never your strong suit, 
but you always did have the best ideas.
warringtonchaser: Yes, I'll admit that I do.
montaguechaser: ...I don't think it counts as a group hug if there are 
only two of us, though.
warringtonchaser: We're a group. A group of drunken, go-nowhere 
stockboys, but a group nonetheless. But if you *really* need a group hug, I 
can probably find Marcus. I think he'd just laugh, though. 
montaguechaser: ...I don't need a bloody group hug, for Merlin's sake, 
especially not with Marcus; I'd catch some sort of damn disease from 
just looking at him, much less touching his contaminated self.
warringtonchaser: Fine, then, a regular hug. 
montaguechaser: ...that...that'll do.
warringtonchaser: Right, then. *opens arms* Hug?
montaguechaser: This is bloody stupid. ::leans into them, arms 
wrapping half-awkwardly around Chris's shoulders:: Thanks.
warringtonchaser: Yeah, but, funny how much it helps, for how stupid it is. 
*pats Tyb's back*
montaguechaser: Ever notice how stupid life is, like that? ::tightens his 
hold a bit, eyes closing::
warringtonchaser: *rests chin you your shoulder* Life's stupid in a damn 
lot of ways. 
montaguechaser: ...so you picked up on that, I take it. ::breathes in 
deeply. Steady, boy, steady.:: ...yeah. It is.
warringtonchaser: Oh, yeah, *long* time ago. *swallow*
montaguechaser: ...yeah? Yeah. Me...me too. ::yes, he notices its a 
long hug. Yes, he doesn't give a damn.::
warringtonchaser: And, uh, if you ever do want me to pound the knuts out 
of Derrick... 
montaguechaser: ...I'll keep in mind that you're my man, Chris.
warringtonchaser: Good. One word, they'll find his dismembered carcass in 
the gutter, I swear. 
montaguechaser: ...sweet, Chris. Real...fucking sweet. I appreciate it. 
Really...I do.
warringtonchaser: I, um... *lets go kind of awkwardly* think it's about time 
to close the shop, you? 
montaguechaser: ::pulls back, not meeting your eyes:: ...right. 
Yeah...about time to be getting back to hell. I mean. Home. ...yeah.
warringtonchaser: *blinks* It really isn't... I mean, it isn't *that* bad.
montaguechaser: ::hesitates:: ...yeah. S'not that bad at all. Could be 
alone, after all. But...'m not.
warringtonchaser: Yeah, because I imagine if one of us was alone, we'd 
quickly be overpowered by the rats. 
montaguechaser: ...If I didn't go crazy from being alone with them, first. 
::grins:: But together-- well, I think we'll get the better of them, yet.
warringtonchaser: And if we move to London, maybe we'll also have to put 
up with superintelligent cockroaches. 
montaguechaser: Bah. Cockroaches'll be nothing, after these bloody 
rats. ::pauses:: ...yeah. So...let's shut up shop.
warringtonchaser: Mmm. Yeah. 
montaguechaser: ::runs his fingers through his hair, pointedly not 
looking at his friend as he sets about doing so::
warringtonchaser: *rummages for the keys* So, then. We. Er. Are going to 
talk to Ter about that offer? 
montaguechaser: ...I'm sure we can get another, equally infested flat to 
share than this one with little to no problem at all. And-- the job offer-- I 
think we should take him up on it.
warringtonchaser: Absolutely. Do us good to get out of this town. 
montaguechaser: Do us good to get somewhere other than here. 
Change of scenery, or something. ::grabs his things up to leave::
warringtonchaser: Yes. Turn off the lights, will you?
montaguechaser: Can do. ::flashes a grin, pulling out his wand and, 
with a swish and a flick, complying::