Interlocking Squares: Vincent (5)
Friday 13 January 2006
David was still at his desk when Vincent woke up.
Stretching and rubbing his eyes, Vincent wondered if his roommate had gone to sleep at all the night before. Probably not, he decided. David was one of those people who could pull an all-nighter and still look more refreshed than someone who had gotten a solid eight hours' sleep. Vincent himself belonged to the category who nodded off without fail at one a.m. at the latest.
'Morning,' said David, without turning around. His eyes were fixed on the computer screen. Instead of the steady tap-tap of typing, though, Vincent could hear... music? It was turned down low so as not to disturb him – something else he'd spoken to David about – but what little he could make out sounded disturbingly familiar.
'Morning,' Vincent responded. 'Still at the assignment?'
'Nope,' said David. 'Finished it a couple of hours ago. Crap, most of it, but hey, that's what my lecturers like, provided it's dressed up properly.'
A low but familiar 'boink' came from the computer. Vincent's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He remembered that from Collector of Tales last night – it was the exact sound Mervyn made when he fell off a particularly high platform! 'What are you doing?' he demanded, rushing round to David's desk. 'What's that doing on your computer? It's Ching Juan's game, isn't it?'
'Of course it is,' said David calmly – and unrepentantly, to Vincent's mind. 'I'm up to level six. Bit tricky getting through that swarm of Critters – I keep dying. You've got to watch out for the way they swallow big thick books and spit out little pellets of literary criticism.' He chuckled. 'Never thought books could be so fun.'
Vincent did not care how fun David found books. 'But how did it get on your computer?' he demanded again. 'You can't have copied from mine – I remember locking it up last night!' Unless David had picked the lock, of course. Vincent didn't put that completely past him.
'Simple. Her email's still in your inbox, isn't it?' David was seemingly absorbed in guiding Mervyn up several levels of shifting platforms. 'I got into your email account and downloaded it from there.'
If Vincent's eyes could have bulged further, they would. 'But how – ? My password – how did you find that out? You didn't – didn't hack into it, did you?'
David gave him a look of tolerant amusement. 'Nothing fancy needed. It wasn't too hard to figure out. I know after all this time living with you that it's something pretty long, and you do have that poster taped on the inside of the door' – he nodded towards Vincent's wardrobe – 'so I thought what the hell, typed in Sarah Michelle Gellar and voila.'
Vincent felt his legs sag. It sounded like he was long overdue for a password change.
'And if you're thinking about changing it to Jessica Alba, think again. I know about that magazine with the feature article on her you've been keeping oh-so-carefully on your shelf for the last few weeks. Not to mention that photo spread of Jennifer Garner in – '
'You shouldn't have done that,' Vincent broke it, feeling obscurely as if he'd lost the moral high ground somehow.
'Why not?' said David, now intent on navigating Mervyn round a herd of snoozing six-legged purple creatures. 'Lesser of two evils, after all. I thought about waking you so I could copy over from your hard disk, but I didn't want you to lose any beauty sleep. Besides, I didn't have the heart to. You looked like you were having sweet dreams.'
Vincent gave up. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered trying to argue with David. 'Well... don't do that next time, all right?' As a reprimand, he thought resignedly, it lacked a certain amount of force.
'Mm-hm,' said David absently. Mervyn tripped over one of the purple creatures and jolted it into wakefulness, whereupon it began, systematically, to disembowel him. The sight drew a laugh from David, which Vincent thought was rather cruel. 'Dammit, this game is fun. Not bad for an indie project. I told her so, too.'
'You did what?'
'Emailed Ching Juan. Told her she did a good job. Everyone needs a little affirmation every now and then, or so those bloody self-help books keep telling me.'
Vincent was still working out what to say when David glanced up at him again. 'Don't you have an eight o' clock class? Seven-fifteen and you're still standing here in your pyjamas opening and shutting your mouth. Tsk. Better get a move on – what would your lecturer say? His favourite student gone AWOL, unless it's MIA... still, better that than KIA, like poor ol' Mervyn here.'
Vincent closed his mouth firmly and decided to take David's advice... for the moment. David was a friend, but this was going too far. There were limits, after all. I'm going to have a few choice words for him when I get back, he told himself as he headed for the bathroom. More than a few, in fact. And I'll have the whole of the day to figure out exactly what they are.
David was still at his desk when Vincent woke up.
Stretching and rubbing his eyes, Vincent wondered if his roommate had gone to sleep at all the night before. Probably not, he decided. David was one of those people who could pull an all-nighter and still look more refreshed than someone who had gotten a solid eight hours' sleep. Vincent himself belonged to the category who nodded off without fail at one a.m. at the latest.
'Morning,' said David, without turning around. His eyes were fixed on the computer screen. Instead of the steady tap-tap of typing, though, Vincent could hear... music? It was turned down low so as not to disturb him – something else he'd spoken to David about – but what little he could make out sounded disturbingly familiar.
'Morning,' Vincent responded. 'Still at the assignment?'
'Nope,' said David. 'Finished it a couple of hours ago. Crap, most of it, but hey, that's what my lecturers like, provided it's dressed up properly.'
A low but familiar 'boink' came from the computer. Vincent's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He remembered that from Collector of Tales last night – it was the exact sound Mervyn made when he fell off a particularly high platform! 'What are you doing?' he demanded, rushing round to David's desk. 'What's that doing on your computer? It's Ching Juan's game, isn't it?'
'Of course it is,' said David calmly – and unrepentantly, to Vincent's mind. 'I'm up to level six. Bit tricky getting through that swarm of Critters – I keep dying. You've got to watch out for the way they swallow big thick books and spit out little pellets of literary criticism.' He chuckled. 'Never thought books could be so fun.'
Vincent did not care how fun David found books. 'But how did it get on your computer?' he demanded again. 'You can't have copied from mine – I remember locking it up last night!' Unless David had picked the lock, of course. Vincent didn't put that completely past him.
'Simple. Her email's still in your inbox, isn't it?' David was seemingly absorbed in guiding Mervyn up several levels of shifting platforms. 'I got into your email account and downloaded it from there.'
If Vincent's eyes could have bulged further, they would. 'But how – ? My password – how did you find that out? You didn't – didn't hack into it, did you?'
David gave him a look of tolerant amusement. 'Nothing fancy needed. It wasn't too hard to figure out. I know after all this time living with you that it's something pretty long, and you do have that poster taped on the inside of the door' – he nodded towards Vincent's wardrobe – 'so I thought what the hell, typed in Sarah Michelle Gellar and voila.'
Vincent felt his legs sag. It sounded like he was long overdue for a password change.
'And if you're thinking about changing it to Jessica Alba, think again. I know about that magazine with the feature article on her you've been keeping oh-so-carefully on your shelf for the last few weeks. Not to mention that photo spread of Jennifer Garner in – '
'You shouldn't have done that,' Vincent broke it, feeling obscurely as if he'd lost the moral high ground somehow.
'Why not?' said David, now intent on navigating Mervyn round a herd of snoozing six-legged purple creatures. 'Lesser of two evils, after all. I thought about waking you so I could copy over from your hard disk, but I didn't want you to lose any beauty sleep. Besides, I didn't have the heart to. You looked like you were having sweet dreams.'
Vincent gave up. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered trying to argue with David. 'Well... don't do that next time, all right?' As a reprimand, he thought resignedly, it lacked a certain amount of force.
'Mm-hm,' said David absently. Mervyn tripped over one of the purple creatures and jolted it into wakefulness, whereupon it began, systematically, to disembowel him. The sight drew a laugh from David, which Vincent thought was rather cruel. 'Dammit, this game is fun. Not bad for an indie project. I told her so, too.'
'You did what?'
'Emailed Ching Juan. Told her she did a good job. Everyone needs a little affirmation every now and then, or so those bloody self-help books keep telling me.'
Vincent was still working out what to say when David glanced up at him again. 'Don't you have an eight o' clock class? Seven-fifteen and you're still standing here in your pyjamas opening and shutting your mouth. Tsk. Better get a move on – what would your lecturer say? His favourite student gone AWOL, unless it's MIA... still, better that than KIA, like poor ol' Mervyn here.'
Vincent closed his mouth firmly and decided to take David's advice... for the moment. David was a friend, but this was going too far. There were limits, after all. I'm going to have a few choice words for him when I get back, he told himself as he headed for the bathroom. More than a few, in fact. And I'll have the whole of the day to figure out exactly what they are.