Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Uncontrolled Exposure ❯ Chapter 9

Confrontations

Bastian groaned as he trudged through the front door, shrugging out of his coat before he ran a hand down his face in frustration. He was going to kill Mikhail when he got back . . . because he'd been deliberately pushing Chris's buttons the entire trip. And as soon as they'd gotten the flat he'd only gotten worse. By the time that he'd gotten to the spot Chris had been about three seconds from shooting his brother and dismembering his body before he started chucking the pieces off the summit. But he knew that-even with the very harsh talk he and his brother had before he'd left to head back- that Khail was likely to continue giving Redfield hell.

Khail didn't like the way that Chris babied Claire-unnecessarily as far as he was concerned- or the way that Chris had snapped and snarled at him just for being there. And when he'd seen just how badly he could work under his skin, his brother had declared open season.

He was too much like their father not to torture someone once he'd found a weakness to exploit . . . just like Chaosia when she was pissed.

He shook his head, tossing his keys onto the table as he pushed into the living room. Only to stop as he noticed exactly what he'd walked in on.

With the way Chaosia and Wesker had yet to actually speak to one another long than five seconds since the initial introductions that he'd come back to one of two things. Either they would both be locked away in separate rooms brooding and sulking or they would be at one another's throats, arguing and bickering because one had finally snapped at the `indignation forced upon them' (Wesker's exact words when they were first heading out).

So to walk in on this . . .

Wesker was perched on the edge of the middle sofa cushion with Chaosia's laptop settled on the coffee table in front of him, his elbows resting on his thighs as his hands hung between his legs; clasped loosely as his eyes stared at the screen. He didn't react to his arrival, his light blue irises flying over the information before him as he tilted his head slightly to the side. Chaosia was nestled beside him; one of her thicker sweaters swathed around her shoulders as she reached out and actually touched the screen. She spoke softly, her finger moving over the display before she pulled away; picking up one of the twin thick glasses of Scotch on the table before them.

Bastian hung back in the shadowed entryway, watching Chaosia drain the remnants of her drink before moving to pick up the crystal decanter. But Wesker moved, beating her to it as he tugged the stopper free; easily pouring a fairly generous amount of the dark liquid into her glass. Bastian raised a brow, stunned as Chaosia-the same person who had pitched such a fit over being left here- laughed and nodded to his captain; clinking her glass against the decanter as Wesker rolled his eyes. Smirking as he set the crystal container down after topping off his own drink.

He stood there, watching the two of them settle back into their drinks and conversations; Chaosia and Wesker shoulder to shoulder as his sister chattered-chattered!- away to his Captain. And the man nodded and responded, neither seeming put off or bothered by having to carry on the conversation the way they normally would.

What in the hell had happened while he'd been helping change flats and avoid murders?

“So am I right? The protein barrier is degrading isn't it?”

Wesker nodded, running a finger over the lip of his glass as he kept his eyes on the screen. But Bastian knew that his little sister had the man's full attention as he spoke, his voice thick and almost husky as he chuckled; adding his own input. And settled just a bit deeper into the sofa, causing him to slide just a hair closer to Chaosia. Who blushed prettily but looked up at him in rapt attention; practically hanging on his every word before she rolled her eyes and moved to point at something else on the screen.

“Yes. The decay increases exponentially from slide to slide. But it has to make one consider to what end? The barrier is protecting the RNA. If it degrades too quickly then the virus will be incredibly short lived, not having the proper time to spore and replicate before the host's immune system can eradicate it. A rather . . . unfortunate drawback if this is supposed to be more than the common cold.”

“But isn't that the point, Captain? It's a coronavirus . . . these viruses cause colds. If it stayed in the system any longer then the body wouldn't be able to combat it. Especially with the reduced volume of lymphocytes that results from the cellular waste produced when these little bastards expire. I personally wouldn't want to mess with it.”

Wesker smirked, chuckling again as he leaned back; his arm going over the back of the sofa almost lazily as he shook his head. He took a drink from his glass before sitting it on his thigh, his hand on the couch support dangerously close to falling over Chaosia's shoulder. Bastian watched him shift, keeping himself from touching her even as she leaned back against the cushions. And when she drank half of her glass in the next go he felt himself start to get worried. Chaos rarely drank this much . . . and she'd killed over two bottles of her favorite scotch since they'd gotten up here.

He went to speak when Wesker beat him to it, letting his arm fall over Chaosia's shoulders and tug her into him; her head falling onto his shoulder as she let her own glass rest in her lap. Bastian watched them, amazed at how at peace the two of them looked sitting together on the sofa as the fire slowly died in the hearth. But he could tell-from the overly relaxed way the two acted- that they were pretty damn sloshed. And that he was going to need to separate them before something happened that he couldn't deal with.

He'd wanted Wesker to find a friend in his little sister: not a damn fuck buddy.

“Oh I'm sure of that in any case, Dear Heart. I am merely pointing out that it seems more a natural viral reaction than a manufactured one.”

Chaosia snorted, her eyes closing as she shifted closer to him; her cheek resting against the material of his shirt as she shivered. Wesker rubbed her arm, keeping her close as he glanced down to her with a raised brow.

“You Captain Wesker are incorrigible . . . but you're right. Why aren't you in a lab? I mean, what on earth made you want ignore three doctorates to be a cop?”

Bastian flinched as Wesker shrugged, his head lulling back against the sofa as he closed his eyes. And Bastian didn't even have time to register what his sister had just said before the man spoke again, asking a question very similar to one he'd voiced years ago.

“Boredom I suppose. The desire to do something more than just sit in a lab and stare at the walls while I waited for my `fellows' to progress enough for me to actually work again. What of you? I'm sure the fields of viral and forensic pathology suited your talents and intelligence well enough that you didn't need to pursue any further accreditations. Why vie for forensic psychology as well?”

She shrugged, fiddling with her glass as she softly. But the answer Chaosia gave Wesker differed from the one she'd given him. Greatly.

“I-with everything I see at work I wanted to know why. When I was doing my residency I saw a little boy beaten by his father so severely that the body bag was sticking to the exposed meat on his back. Because that's all it was-meat. It didn't even look like human flesh anymore. I cried the entire autopsy . . . And do you know why?”

Wesker looked down at her as she looked up at him through her lashes, shaking his head after a few long moments. She shifted, shaking her head aggravatedly.

“It wasn't just because he was so young or he'd gone through such a horrible thing-that he'd died so needlessly and so painfully. It was because the cops that had responded came in with the body. They walked that kid in and stayed until we signed to take him. So I asked the lead why this had happened. You know what he said? This little boy's father had decided to beat his six year old to death with an old belt. Because he'd stepped in front of the television while he'd been trying to watch a football game.”

Bastian watched Chaosia move, reaching up to push her hair out of her face as she shook her head again.

“I just-I could look at the aftermath and figure out what had been done. I could tell you what weapon caused what wound. What poison caused what organ and systemic damage . . . but I couldn't look at this and tell anyone why. I mean, I've always known why. And even though the cops just swore it was because the old bastard was evil it wasn't enough. What makes a person feel like something like that? I mean, what makes a person evil? To decide that its justifiable or necessary to take lives?”

Wesker seemed to stiffen against her before he relaxed, dipping to speak softly to her before he moved away; his nose nearly touching her cheek before he pushed to his feet and moved towards the kitchen.

“Because Dear Heart. There are some people who just don't deserve their next breath. They waste and squander everything they're given before they whine when they don't get more. Then there are some who are more useful as medical cadavers than as any contributing member of society; their bodies better used in search of cures and procedures than letting them continue to sully the earth with their existence. And some people Dear Heart are just evil. Wicked down to the very core.”

Bastian watched him walk into the kitchen, shaking his head as he pushed into the room. Chaosia jumped like she'd seen a ghost, nearly dropping her drink as she yelped. She corrected, setting the cup on the table as she wiped the few specks that had dropped onto her jeans. He crossed his arms, giving her a pointed look as she looked back up at him; her face falling as she saw his expression. She bit her bottom lip, shifting on the couch as he continued to glare. Finally-after she fidgeted a little more- she growled at him, tossing her hands in the air.

“What, Bastian?! Seriously, why are you glaring?”

He narrowed his eyes, jerking his head towards the office.

“Family conference, Chaosia. Now.”

She pushed to her feet, moving past him with a hateful look as she made her way towards the office she'd practically lived in. And as he moved to follow her Wesker stepped out of the kitchen, brow raised as he watched her stalk past him. He turned to him, opening his mouth to speak when Bastian cut him off; moving to follow his sister.

“Save it, Captain. Right now I'm going to sober up my baby sister and see what the hell's wrong with her. Or you for that matter. You do remember she's my family, right? Not some pretty little airhead you can toss into bed and then abandon.”

Wesker blinked before his face fell completely void of emotion, his eyes narrowing as he jerked his chin towards Chaosia.

“There's nothing wrong with her, Shaw. She is far from inebriated. And all that we were doing was looking over the virus sample she's composing her thesis around-“

Bastian gave a sarcastic bark of laughter, turning back to glare at him hard.

“That may work on everyone else Albert but you forget that I'm not an idiot. I know what I just walked in on. And while the two of you were clambering on about viruses and cells and whatever else turns the two of you on I'm not stupid enough to think that's all that was going on.”

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Wesker glared down at Shaw, unable to even regard him as anything other than a nuisance at this point. He'd gotten up to get himself a cup of the coffee Chaosia had brewed before, hoping to give himself enough time to recover from his own display of brutal honesty when he'd heard the girl yelp. And as he'd stepped back into the den to check on her he'd been shocked to see her pushing down the hallway, angry tears trailing down her cheeks as she muttered to herself. With Bastian moving right behind her.

He'd gone to speak, to see what in the world was going on-because his scotch addled brain just couldn't seem to piece together what was happening- Bastian had rounded on him. Showcasing the venom he'd only read about in the man's file; the same venom and callousness that had made him a commander before he'd left the Rangers. Wesker wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd gotten angry then, his own ego flaring to life through the liquor and the ever present knowledge that he needed to stay on task-that he couldn't just shoot the man and be done with it the way he would a problem with Umbrella- falling behind his building rage at being questioned and scolded. But even as he moved to stand nearly toe-to-toe with his teammate (with the man that had been steadily working to become one of his few coveted friends) he didn't want to admit that he was right. When he'd struck his deal with Chaosia he'd thought he would just end up pushing her in the direction he wanted her to go, telling her what-was-what and keeping her as far from William's precious virus as he could. But as soon as she'd started up her computer-relocating them to the living room after they'd eaten- he'd realized he was wrong.

Chaosia was intelligent, able to see the minute details and nuances of virology that most biologists and chemists overlooked. And the biting sarcasm that had started to slip through once they'd actually gotten semicomfortable around one another made it bearable to be in her company. She didn't mind that he was brilliant-actually she seemed to like having another person to talk to about her interests- and he could tell she was as intrigued by him as he was perplexed by her.

When they'd started going over her actual papers he'd been pleasantly surprised. Bastian had been right; even with the limited time she'd been working with the SARS sample it was easy to see she was very nearly done. And all he'd had to do was help her refine and clean up some of her newer interpretations. So when she'd brought the Scotch out he hadn't even hesitated, helping her drain most of the decanter as they'd settled into a quiet conversation. From there it had progressed to the situation Bastian had apparently walked in on- the two of them snuggled together on the couch, drinking and chatting as they'd worked through the final few paragraphs.

Shaw moved, shaking his head as he pushed down the hall back after Chaosia; shooting him another icy look as he snorted. Wesker fought the urge to roll his eyes, stalking back into the kitchen and tossing the coffee cup into the sink hard enough to make it shatter. He gripped the edge of the counter hard enough for his knuckles to whiten, his chin dipping nearly to his chest as he tried to gather his thoughts. What in the hell was wrong with him? Why was he upset over something this trivial?

So Shaw was pissed at him for having a drink-okay half a bottle with his sister. And so the girl had proved to be tolerable, her own oddities and personality allowing him to actually enjoy human interaction rather than loathe it. Statistically it was bound to happen one day . . . He sighed, pushing back from the counter as he ran a hand over his face in frustration.

It was a mistake to come up here, to even attempt to be a part of something that wasn't a necessity for his cover. He wasn't with Redfield or Valentine, he wasn't with Burton and Forest. If he miss-stepped, faltered even the slightest then Shaw and his sister were bound to see it. Shaw wasn't put off by his normal mannerisms and his silence, Shaw wasn't deterred by his snide comments and snarky attitude. And now that he'd struck such a repertoire with Chaosia he knew that she wouldn't be either.

He growled, turning to go towards his bedroom. He hated to admit it but the only viable option here was a strategic retreat. He needed to withdraw before he did something else, crossed another social line he had never really cared enough to adhere to outside of work. He stilled, shocked by the realization that struck him. He hadn't been behaving as though he was on assignment . . . he'd been acting like he was with William. Like he wasn't worming his way through the RPD for Umbrella and evaluating the various uses for STARS.

He shook himself, continuing his trek-save a bit faster. He needed to get out of this house before he did something even more idiotic than he already had. Who would've known that prolonged exposure to Shaw and his family-to his own squad- would make him react like this?

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Chaosia rounded on Bastian as soon as he stepped in the room, not even giving him time to speak as she started yelling at him.

“What in the hell is your problem, Sebastian?”

He glared at her, dipping in her face as he growled at her through clenched teeth.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?! That's my fucking boss, Chaosia. My friend. And what did you do?!”

She rolled her eyes, glaring at him.

“I sat beside him on the couch and we had a drink.”

“I saw you together Chaos. You weren't just having a drink. You were practically on top of one another, laughing and talking. When I left the two of you wouldn't even stand near one another! You've barely spoken to him-“

She snorted, cutting her eyes to him.

“We talked the first night the rest of you got plastered; we had a drink together then and no one died. And then again this morning idiot. When you sent Claire out to requisition my computer?”

Bastian grew still his eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked her over. And the next words out of his mouth made her heart clench painfully. She knew he was upset with Mikhail. And she knew that he was stressed over ever everything that had been happening since they'd gotten up here. But it didn't excuse how he was acting.

“So you're really going to try and sell that the two of you were just talking? I've seen you just talk before. And you don't let anyone touch you.”

“We were talking about my thesis, Bastian. About school and work. He has a background in virology . . . and when we finally started talking we just kept on. Because it was nice to actually be able to converse with someone without their eyes glazing over. If you're pissed about the drinking then fine. Be pissed at me. I brought it out and started pouring. Not him.”

Bastian snorted, rolling his eyes. But his next words made her heart freeze in her ribs.

How dare he?!

“Oh I'm plenty pissed at you, Chaosia. Our mother and I didn't raise you to act like some drunken little debutante. Or to whore up to the first person who can actually carry on a conversation with you about viruses-”

Her fist collided with his right cheek, the force of the hit actually making her brother stagger. And as soon as he turned to clutch his now aching jaw she cuffed the back of his head as hard as she could. Her brother turned, glaring at her as she practically seethed up at him from her position in front of the desk. Working to try to get herself under some semblance of control as she watched blood ooze from his split lip.

Bastian, however, was having none of it-and almost made her laugh as he growled at her. Chaosia rolled her eyes, outwardly unfazed and swung when he stepped closer; opening his mouth to bitch at her again. And her fist connected in a solid right hook to his jaw as he squawked. God for a Ranger her brother was such a puss when it came to fighting either her or Khail. He could snap a stranger's neck like it was nothing but they had to get him seething and frothing at the mouth to even attempt to throw a punch. When he went to grab her again she stomped on his foot hard enough to make even her wince before she brought her other foot around in a solid roundhouse kick to connect with the same abused cheek.

Bastian staggered again, actually sliding down the front of the desk before he regained his footing . . . and caught her next swing, pulling her flush against him again. Both were breathing heavy, panting as they glared at one another. She didn't know if it was the Scotch or the fact that she'd just made a deal with a quintessential devil for his sake but his attitude-and Khail's- had finally made her hard earned patience snap. And since their brother wasn't here to share in the pain Bastian was going to reap all of it. He growled again, getting down in her face as he ground out through clenched teeth.

“Will you quit fucking hitting me?!”

Chaosia glared back but nodded, jerking her hand away as he loosened his grip . . . before kneeing him straight in the balls. Bastian dropped to the ground while she crouched down eye level with her battered and abused eldest sibling. She waited for him to catch his breath, trying not to wince as he rocked and rolled to his side; holding himself as he whined.

Maybe she'd hit him too hard . . .

She shook herself, sighing as she closed her eyes. She hated that this had happened but she wasn't going to become Claire Redfield. Her brothers weren't going to control every aspect of her life . . . and Bastian sure as hell wasn't going to treat her like some incompetent little git. She reached out, pushing his hair out of his eyes as she looked over his cheek; wincing at the very evident swelling near his jaw.

“Bastian I-“

He batted her away, glaring up at her before he pushed to his feet; wavering unsteadily as he grabbed the edge of the desk. She waited for him to collect himself before he finally spoke.

“Damn it Chaosia . . . you hit harder than a fucking man when you're pissed. You know that?”

She bit her lip, trying not to return the smirk he was giving her. God they were so fucked up. She'd just beaten the shit out of him and he was chuckling at her. She moved, stepping into him as he straightened; not caring that he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest, closing her eyes tight to keep the newly forming tears at bay. Oh great. She was drunk . . . `tore up from the floor up'- to quote Paul- if she was already getting weepy.

Bastian sighed, tugging her tighter as he shushed her.

“I know him, Chaos. I've seen him with other women and the way that he does. He just uses them until he's bored and then moves on because he doesn't want that kind of attachment. Hell I'm beginning to think he doesn't want any kind of attachment with anyone. I don't want that for you.”

He tilted her face up, brushing her tears away as he laid his lips against her forehead; running is other hand down her spine reassuringly.

“I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean to say that to you. I just- I don't want you to get hurt.”

She stilled looking up at him before she shook her head, pulling away from him as she glared.

“So you call me a whore? Is that what you really think of me? That I'm stupid enough to just fall into the first asshole's bed that I find?”

Bastian flinched, going to speak when she cut him off, turning to leave the room.

“I may look like my mother, Sebastian but I am nothing like her. I'm not going to make her mistakes. Or my father's or yours. So stop trying to divert the oncoming disasters.”

She pushed out of the study, refusing to look up as she tore down the hallway. Barely avoiding Wesker as he moved out of the guest bedroom. He furrowed his brows at her, calling out as she made her way towards the living room. And the coat that held her keys to freedom. Literally. Wesker followed her, speaking again as she picked up Bastian's jacket, tugging her carkeys free of the pocket before she moved to grab her purse from the hook by the door.

“Chaosia? What's going on? I thought I heard a scream-“

She tossed the bag over her shoulder, gathering her hair up and into a sloppy bun at the base of her neck as she gave a sarcastic little bark. She refused to look back at him, reaching for the door as she spoke.

“I'm leaving.”

Wesker stepped closer, moving to try and take her purse when she jerked away from him; uncaring that she was more than slightly drunk. Or that she was taking out what had happened between her and her family on him. But what did it matter? He'd pretty much blackmailed her into showing him everything she had on both the SARS and the Arklay V-1 strain. And even though she'd enjoyed spending time with him she wasn't so stupid or naïve to disbelieve Bastian's words. She'd noticed the traits herself, had called him on them while he'd laughed and harassed her. Never once even bothering to try to speak against it.

“Now? I-it's so late Dear Heart. Shouldn't you-“

She glared at him, gripping her keys hard enough for her hand to hurt.

“Do. Not. Call. Me. That! I am most certainly not you're Dear Heart, your darling or anything other sentimental pet name you use to crawl in and out of whoever's bed you chose. Seeing as my brother was so kind to inform me that's one of your biggest habits. Along with apparently blackmailing people and manipulating them to get your way.”

He shook his head, stepping closer as she wrenched the door open, completely unfazed that she nearly sent the doorknob through the wall. She turned, stalking out of the house and towards her car with one final remark called over her shoulder. And as she sank into the driver's seat she prayed-desperately- that she would just be able to get back to her house and not have to deal with any of this anymore.

Why in the hell had she ever agree to this?

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Wesker blinked, nearly flinching as Chaosia stormed from the house; slamming the door behind her. But what she'd said was still bouncing around his head. What in the hell had happened when the two of them had left to go talk? And why did hearing that she was so upset make him feel . . . bad? He watched the door for a few moments before he turned towards the hallway, watching Bastian step into the room. Shaw looked around before he turned to him, eyes accusing and stubborn; though his right cheek and jaw were red and starting to swell.

He straightened, raising a brow as his teammate moved to stand before him; his arms crossed as they stared at one another. Finally the other man sighed in frustration, tossing his hands up.

“Jesus, Wesker. Can you stop staring?! Where is she?”

Wesker crossed his own arms, giving Shaw a deadpan look before he cut his eyes to the door. And he kept his voice neutral and controlled as he gave a rather droll response.

“She left, Shaw. Something about how she refused to stand here and be labeled a whore. Or being played with like all of my other conquests.”

Bastian stilled, his face becoming thoughtful before he sighed again; reaching up and running his hand through his hair. But Wesker didn't care if he looked repentant. He'd just effectively destroyed his best opportunity at gaining an in for the Coroner's office and keeping the G-virus out of the media and the files. And even though Wesker himself had been contemplating just hiking the seven miles to the hidden lab entrance down at the base of Arklay he was still pissed.

“Now tell me, Officer Shaw? How would your sister know about anything that occurs in my private life? Or have such wild and inappropriate ideas about my sexual habits?”

Bastian's eyes came up and locked with his hard, the blue turning almost glacial before he rolled them; giving him a condescending smirk. And the fact that he knew that look and tone of voice only served to infuriate him even further. It was just odd to see on anyone other than himself or Spencer.

“Because I'm not a heartless bastard. Don't get me wrong, Albert. I like you well enough but in the end I am going to protect my family-my blood. Khail's a scrappy little fuck and can usually take care of himself, bad decisions and all. But Chaosia? She seems to think that since we've all told her time and time again how much like our dickhead of a father she is that she doesn't have a lick of her mother in her. And she's wrong. Dead wrong.”

He shifted on his feet, turning to look back over the house as he sighed.

“And her taking off just proves it. My dad would've told me to fuck off and come right back out here and done what he wanted. Chaosia got hurt and indignant. And left so she wouldn't have to face it. Because she doesn't wall off the way my Dad does . . . she freaks like her mom. That's why Millennia always kept her cool. She had to or it was impossible to stop her.”

He shook his head, pushing to go towards the door; growling in frustration as he went. Wesker looked after him, brow raised.

“And just where are you going?”

“To get my sister before she kills herself.”

Wesker threw his hands in the air, shaking his head as he moved to follow. He trudged outside, tossing his own coat over his shoulders as he griped to Shaw.

“And to think, if you'd let me stay at home for the holiday I would be staring at my walls or `emotionlessly bedding one of my conquests'. But who would've ever wanted to miss this?”

Bastian snorted, moving towards the Land Rover determinedly.

“Yeah well congratulations. This is what its like to have families and friends.”

“A clusterfuck?”

Bastian nodded, opening the door.

“Yeah pretty much. Why do you think me and Chris are so damn crazy?”

Wesker nodded, rolling his eyes. Never noticing that his phone was no longer in his pocket. It was sitting on the sofa, the faceplate glowing and blinking as the name and number of the caller flashed over the display.

William Birkin

303-597-3613

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William Birkin turned, rubbing at the hair tickling the back of his neck with a grimace. He needed to get it cut . . . and washed. His hand moved around his neck and up his jaw, causing him to blink. He needed to shave too. He turned, glancing at the date and time display on his computer readouts; shocked to see it was well after 11:00 pm and two days later than he thought it should be.

Meaning that Albert wasn't in Raccoon city anymore. He was up in the mountains with his new little friends from his new assignment. Birkin rolled his eyes, waiting for the voicemail to finish it's blathering. He still didn't understand what Wesker hoped to achieve by going with the group of cretins into the mountains. He just hoped that he hadn't bitten off more than he could chew.

“This is Captain Albert Wesker. Leave a message after the beep. If this is an emergency hang up and dial 911 for emergency response services.”

He rolled his eyes, trying not to snort. His friend sounded so damned bored even in the recording that it was almost depressing. What in the hell had Spencer been thinking to put him there within the RPD? Couldn't they see that he was better suited-he was more useful- in the labs that he'd cut his teeth-er fangs in.

“Albert its William. Return this call when you get back from the Mountains with the yokels. Annette needs to know if you'll be attending Sherry's birthday party in a few weeks time.”

He sighed, ending the call before he tossed the handset back into the cradle a little harder than he needed to. He knew it was petty-as his oh so loving and adoring wife had already informed him- but he didn't like that Wesker actually seemed to want to go up with the others. Just like was more than a little wary of how often he spoke about this Shaw character.

He crossed his arms, slumping into his seat as he huffed.

God why did his oldest friend decide that he wanted to start acting human?

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