“Yeah, I do know how you get. It doesn’t bug me, you know that, so you don’t have to apologize.” Eisen chuckled and smoothed a hand through his hair, listening to Rory’s ideas about their vocabulary crusades. “Well, if we use thesauri, we’ll basically be telling people to use words and not know what they really mean. Maybe one of us hits them with one and then one with the other? And instead of the big ones we can use little pocket ones. We’d be saving the world, one brain at a time…” he snickered and looked at his friend with a smirk. “We’d have exposés done on us and everything. It’d be pretty epic.”
One of Eisen’s favorite things about Rory was that he actually thought through their jokes, and even if they were the most ridiculous things in the world, he went with them. The zombie situation was a perfect example of that. “No, it wouldn’t. Besides that, if you were a zombie, it would arise this whole worry of you deciding to devour my brain while we were chilling and having bad movie night, and frankly, I’m really not okay with that idea,” he said, sounding dead serious. “They do have brains! They’re just…rotted and unappealing. Would you want to eat a rotting brain?”
“Psh, sleep. Who needs sleep?” he said, though of course Rory would know instantly that he was the biggest liar ever to lie. Eisen, being lazy, slept way later than he should have on most days. Rory’s laughter made him grin, because for once, he’d been the one to make his friend double over with laughter and not vice versa. It was nice, for once. “All right, all right. No psycholawyer. I still maintain that it is the awesomest fake profession ever, though,” he said. As usual, and as only Rory could, he avoided the topic of girls entirely. At least girls who were or would potentially be interested in him. Eisen was used to it by now, but someday, he swore, he’d get his friend to talk openly about them.
“You know, I really wish someone would create a time machine. And we should totally propose eighteenth century day,” he chuckled. “Or at least like…you know how some places to Renaissance festivals? An eighteenth century festival! That’d be awesome…” he said, pausing and smirking when Rory mentioned Lexie. It was like his best friend knew when he’d had some kind of development on that front, no matter how small, and he always brought her up. “It really would. And my ten thousand a year? Shame to waste that, too.”