Who: Gio Serafini and Andy Lang What: An unintentional shadow travel side trip leads to some 'sibling' bonding. Where: Andy's dressing room When: Friday, February 12th; evening Warnings: Definitely no more than PG. Some angst. Probably some language.
If Gio had been interested in making a good grade on his chemistry test on Tuesday, he wouldn't have been making plans to go spend the weekend in the Underworld, anyway. He didn't actually care. One good test wasn't going to make a difference to his grade now, anyway, it would be like spitting into a deep, dark pit to try to turn it into a pool, instead. An F was still going to be an F, even if it was a higher F. It didn't matter for him like it did for the kids at the top of the class, competing for the highest A of them all, asking for extra credit on everything because they wanted to be the one to come out at the top of the heap, already thinking ahead two years to that valedictorian sash and the scholarships they could get. That wasn't for Gio. He was just thinking about getting through the day so that he could get away from people again, when he bothered showing up at all.
He'd told his grandfather that he was going to be studying with some friends, though, that they'd planned a full weekend of studying and hanging out. The fact that his grandpa had believed it and given his permission was even more proof of how disconnected he was with Gio's life. Gio didn't have any friends. Everyone knew that, except his legal guardian. Gio had paused after he'd given him the story once he'd gotten back from school that day, waited for his grandpa to question, to ask about whose house he was going to, whether their parents would be there, anything that TV told him that an adult who cared what he was doing should ask before letting a sixteen-year-old head off on his own. He'd have gone anyway, even if his grandfather had questioned him and said no, but it was like poking a sore tooth. He just wanted to see if, somehow, maybe something had changed, and this time he'd actually ask. He hadn't. He probably wouldn't have even noticed if Gio hadn't taken any of his books with him to study, but Gio had packed up his backpack anyway, chemistry book and the spotty notes that he'd taken when he'd shown up for class barely weighing it down at all. He didn't want to pack anything else, though, not when the more weight he carried, the harder it was to step through the shadows.
Getting to L.A., and the entrance to the Underworld, was a familiar trip. Gio had made it more times than he could count, and he barely even had to think about it anymore. He'd get some snacks to take down with him once he was there, he decided. Just some granola bars or something. Nothing he had to cook, because the Underworld didn't exactly have a huge supply of microwaves sitting around. The dead didn't eat pizza rolls. Cooking anything that didn't go in the microwave was completely out of the question. Gio didn't cook. At least he didn't live off grapes and McDonald's, so he was still doing better than Nico, when it came to fending for himself with food. Besides, it wasn't like there was anyone who was going to judge what he was eating down there, anyway.
Everything was ready. It should have gone just as smoothly as it had every other time that Gio had shadow traveled to L.A., because there was absolutely nothing different about it. He stepped into the shadows in Rhode Island. He'd step out of them in Los Angeles. Except... there was a weird pull, last minute, something that he hadn't expected enough to even start to resist.
He stumbled out of the shadows, off balance thanks to the irresistible yank, a skinny, pale teenager with dark, messy hair, carrying a black backpack slung over one shoulder. That dropped to the ground as he flailed, reaching for a wall to try to get his balance again before he fell on his face. He wasn't tired from the shadow travel, it hadn't been any further than he could manage as long as he was only doing it a few times a week. He kept his eyes on the floor at first, on the toes of his scuffed, worn out sneakers. He didn't know where he was, but he was guessing it definitely wasn't actually Los Angeles. If it was, it was a place in Los Angeles that he'd never been before... and he didn't have a sword to defend himself with, if it happened to be somewhere dangerous. He didn't need a sword, technically, but what he could do without one would be a little bit of overkill. Actually, a sword was probably a little bit of overkill, too. Blinking, disconcerted, he finally raised his gaze to look around the room and figure out exactly how much trouble he was in.