#ian:interactions

"You have no idea how glad I am you were out," Ian mumbled with a glance from the window back to the other man; was it dumb luck or town up to its' usual tricks that left him dumped at Lachlann's car door? Who knew, he didn't care; he was just grateful. Sometimes it just made more sense to go with the luck you had when it turned in your favor. Because honestly? After the call from Tony to the vague tune of 'high at school, can you come get me?' Ian didn't want to deal with strangers in cars on top of best friend drama. It had been a relief to see the familiar face pop up on the Uber app as he'd stood outside.

Which, fine, he couldn't really judge; though he personally had the sense to smoke outside on campus but, whatever, in the grand scheme of Tony bad ideas? It was a tame one. Not a bright one, no, but in comparison it wasn't an actual disaster.

But walking from Pride U to Swynlake Secondary and then Tony's apartment? Ian was willing to come retrieve his stupid friend but had very little desire to trek across town under the time constraints. And driving? Ian was a hazard.

"Ah, so Tony usually just sleeps when he's high," Ian offered as he stared at the window, he couldn't just dump that on Launchpad unexpectedly, but hopefully it wouldn't end in getting kicked out of the car. Or cries, yes, Tony did a fair share of that high but it could probably be avoided. Maybe.

They'd bonded over comic books, and Ian liked talking to Launchpad; he really was just trying to hope for the best. That walk really wasn't going to be fun otherwise and he was not going to call Barley and make things even more awkward between Tony and his brother.

Ian was already doing what he did best; plan. Get Tony to his apartment, wait out the high, grumble at him over the likely pending suspension he'd earned and eventually go home and crash at his mom's place for the night. Nothing too hectic, manageable chaos.

"Sorry," Ian wasn't sure if an apology by proxy counted but he tried, "for this, and thanks for not just kicking me out." At least not yet.

Open: Clumber House Halloween Party

Ian let himself be talked into things, it was just something he had come to realize long before he'd agreed to actually stay at the party rather than retreat once it was in full swing. It was a balancing act really, suffocating excess of interaction versus loneliness. For most people? It was an easy choice; for Ian it had never been that simple. Compromise was clearly the key. Compromise in the form of the cup clutched in his hands mostly empty, recently anyway, and in lurking at the outskirts of the noise and taking it all in.

It wasn't so bad. (it was but Ian was getting better at lying to himself) And every time he felt that uncomfortable feeling edge up his drowned it in another gulp of alcohol.

Which explained why he jumped as he brought the cup down and realized someone had wandered over while he was lost in thought, catching him off guard and forcing him to swallow too quick and suffer the burn of that alcohol.

After everything else, the weeks behind him coming to what had felt like a breaking point; Ian was glad to be back at work. He knew his edges were still a little rough, disheveled, presentable to the world as much as any tired uni student but he'd certainly had a few long nights that had left their dark circles and a slump to his shoulders that had nothing to do with classes. So he was happy to be dealing with dogs and appointments; a pattern to things that was familiar. Everything else was scattered but he felt, even though he was still on that curve of learning his job, he was somewhere that made sense without drama to wade through.

Unless dog drama counted, in the form of a particularly opinionated rescue he'd been spent nearly an hour trying to coax back into their kennel. Problem child, that one, and Ian didn't really mind, stubborn people...stubborn dogs; he understood stubborn, but it had taken long enough that he was left with nothing to do since the other appointments had been started by the time he'd finally gotten the dog to settle down.

He couldn't stand to be bored, not that day, so he'd scoured the shop putting things away, cleaning, anything he could find to do; hunting for Greg in an attempt to make himself useful.

He'd wanted to talk to Greg about his trip but the other man had been decided not around when Ian kept looking. And when he had? There was something off to it, Greg's glances weren't encouraging. By the middle of the morning Ian was uncomfortable, nervous; there was a tension he didn't know what to make of.

"Moose really doesn't like morning walks," he remarked in passing when he spotted the other man near the front desk because usually the easiest topic with Greg was the dogs, and it was no secret how immobile the Shar-Pei was over anything that wasn't napping, eating or very specifically what he wanted to do. "Compared to everything else he doesn't like, I guess." Long list, that.

It was easier than just asking outright what was going on, what was so heavy on Greg's mind that it was like a dark cloud hanging around. Just starting the conversation was, hopefully, enough to get some insight into what was behind Greg's flat mood.

It wasn't that big of a deal, not really. With Greg still recovering from his injuries - the unfortunate side effects of that combined with working with Ian likely going to drive the man mad probably - some things simply were more trouble than his friend needed to address in person. Something of moderate importance, Ian assumed, in an errand he was running for him on campus.

Really, Ian lived on campus so it was almost literally no effort to stop by on the way from Ruff to Fluff before he headed to the dorm, even if that area of Pride U wasn't one he frequented much. No problem though! Still better than his boss and friend making the trip just to hand off a few papers, or whatever the thin package actually held; Ian didn't bother to ask since it wasn't really his business. 

It hardly even felt like a favor, even if Greg had insisted on thanking him for it several times, because that was just Greg's way of doing things; polite to a fault. 

All he'd had to do was find the Magizoology professor and hope they hadn't left for the day yet by the time he'd gotten back from work. More of a problem being that Ian didn't know where he was going, but he at least was in the correct place. Or he thought he was, campus was a maze and given that it was later afternoon when he'd arrived there was little help to be had with directions in the otherwise empty building. Logic tended to favor the idea that if he looked long enough he would come across the classroom; finite space and such. So he continued onward; shouldering a door open, Ian shifted his cargo to the other hand and frowned at the rough paper-cut he earned for it, eying the thin line of red that welled up on his skin. Great. That figured.

He was much more careful with the next hallway, and in keeping his hand away from the clean surface of the thin packet, wiping his fingers on his jeans as he looked to each door in passing in his search. It wasn't creepy at all, no, empty corridors and fluorescent humming lights. A little opening scene of a horror movie; Ian chuckled to himself though at the thought of anything scarier around there than a few angry dust bunnies. 

"You shouldn't be carrying things," it was the latest in an ongoing stream of commentary from the usually quiet teen - you're going to hurt yourself, let me help, please be careful - as Ian had spent the morning all but hounding Greg from one end of Ruff to Fluff to the other. It was concern, of course, since Greg was only recently free from the hospital and Ian had taken it upon himself to make certain he didn't end up back there as he was healing. What all that involved had been secondary to the idea; he wanted to help. And he wanted to get some space from his own heavy thoughts, put that restless energy into something useful.

Technically, he was training. That new job only started a handful of days before the events of city hall, and not nearly enough time to learn everything he needed to know. Technically, Ian was just there to observe and let Greg teach him.

But technically Greg was also still recovering from a nasty attack and Ian was stubbornly certain the man did not need to be overtaxing himself. Or carrying things, handling dogs, basically everything required to run the shop; Ian was willing to take a crash course for the sake of not putting Greg through too much grief.

Unless you counted that he wasn't learning much in the process, and was possibly inspiring grief with his determined efforts.

"Where do I put this?" The shop was too unfamiliar for him to guess, large box in his grasp while he shadowed Greg along; he'd been trying to get him to sit down but that had been an ongoing battle. At the very least he didn't want Greg ripping stitches thinking he needed to be up and moving around.

@notmuchofatail

"You know, one day you'll get tired," Ian remarked with a careful step over the tangle of black and white fur and a scratch between her ears, "if I keep saying it maybe it'll happen."

Doubtful though; by sheer necessity they had already spent the morning outside so the dog could run before her appointment at Ruff to Fluff. If there was one thing that Ian was sure of it was that Blazey wouldn't stay still for something as uninteresting as having her nails trimmed unless she had plenty of time to shake off some of that resounding border collie energy first. No doubt she had already caught the scent of a dozen other animals that had been there before, or still were, and to her that meant one of two things; big enough to play with or small enough to gather and nose around.

"Focus." He reclaimed her sharp attention with the word and knelt down to adjust the harness a bit, rub at the scruff of her neck and chest to calm her, but mostly because Ian adored her and she really couldn't help getting excited. He knew that much from having spent so much time working with her on those erratic habits; one of the biggest regrets he had about living on campus was knowing his dog missed him and it was hard for her to understand the changes.

"Such a good girl. You want your dragon? Yeah?"

The eager little wiggle made him grin, he never really knew if Blazey understood the exact words but she understood him and that was enough; there was nothing better than her big tongue-lolling smile and rapidly wagging tail when he was having a hard day.

"Alright, be good, and no chasing." He reminded her with a final ear scratch as he stood up and reached into his back pocket for the well-chewed toy. Her eyes were glued to it until they reached the door, then he handed it over. Something to keep her occupied during the appointment. Leash still tangled around his wrist and a very pleased Blazey padding along with her dragon, he headed for the reception desk since he figured that was the place to start.

Honestly? Ian was trying.

Standing in the sprawling expanse of the Robinson home, having no idea what to do other than try to avoid even breathing on anything because he was highly uncomfortable when it came to new places, especially peoples' homes; he was trying. Having been inside the house once before, even if that night had been more a foggy blur than crisp in his memories, barely helped because it was so big and so easy to get lost. He didn't even consider the idea of moving anywhere other than where Wilbur very specifically was.

Odd enough, Wilbur Robinson; one person Ian hadn't really given much thought since the year before. Even back then? Wilbur had been a presence in passing, someone on a social level far exceeding his own, when that had used to matter in the exhausting circular existence that was Secondary. Someone Ian had known of, rather than known; a sort of symbol of the top of the social ladder.

At no point did it cross his mind that he would one day be trying to think of something, anything, to say to him. But Wilbur was just a person, wasn't he? A person who Ian had heard of lately in all positive, lavished praise and bright light from Tony about, often enough that he was willing to think this Wilbur was different than the Wilbur Robinson he had attended school with.

But Tony? Oh, he was going to murder Tony later.

Agreeing to join his best friend in the highly important tasking of meeting said best friend's new boyfriend was fine, weird; but Tony asked and Ian didn't think it was unreasonable. The fact that it had been important to Tony wasn't something Ian wanted to take lightly. He was willing enough.

At least until he'd arrived at the Robinson home with Tony very much absent and was ushered inside by...a robot? - Okay that was incredibly cool and he had admittedly been amazed but trying not to be a total nerd about it. How had he missed that the first time? - An actual robot.

The four times he'd texted Tony already with no answer was proof enough he was occupied or it was on purpose; in either case Ian was just stuck there alone and trying to make the best of it. Actually staying rather than fleeing, to his credit.

"I'm pretty sure Tony is busy or laughing right now," Ian hesitated to point out but...he wanted to give Wilbur an easy chance to kick him out rather than suffer an awkward afternoon, "I can...ah...get out of here if you want, since things...sorta fell through?"

Wilbur didn't have to like him, no, he was making an effort to at least meet the guy; but he wasn't expecting Wilbur to hold up plans he probably had been talked into in the first place.

@wilbur-robinson​

"People actually do that?" It was something of a revelation, yes, because in his hometown being so close to the city the idea that anything that grew came from a grocery store was hardly a strange one. "I thought that was just something on Halloween specials, like cutting down trees yourself at Christmas."

Ian felt very deeply misinformed with that new information in hand, downright betrayed, in fact, that he had been misdirected in such a simple tradition.

Well, that might have been a little dramatic, yes, but he was honestly surprised that picking pumpkins was legitimately a normal thing.