"If that was the premise for an action movie, I might actually watch it." Assault rifle vs giant spiders. "In fact, it probably already has been. Hold on."
In aid of not getting too far out, he's turning them around in a gentle curve, going back and upwards, climbing easily.
"I think giant spiders have been in a few. I don't watch movies much, though."
It's the same problem as watching sports: if he's going to be sitting staring at a screen, he wants some control of the little figures running about on it. It's why he prefers hacking to spying, too, and where most of his mistakes come from.
"Are you enjoying it?" Matt asks after a moment, referring to flying.
"I think I am. It is much easier than it looked." Yes, L, good job on reminding Matt that he's soaring through the sky with someone who's never really been off the ground in this kind of circumstance before. Well, he hasn't killed them yet. "Maybe I will need to go flying more often."
He isn't having near-death experiences this time, either.
"And dangerous. And noticeable. Although maybe if you picked the right time of day, at the right altitude..." He leans forwards a little, and they pick up some speed. Definitely heading back towards the castle now.
"I could look for charms to make us invisible, so we do not accidentally reveal the existence of magic to the masses. I am a bit afraid of flash mobs."
But if that works out, then yes, London and flying might not be bad.
"Dude. We could go anywhere." He laughs. "Last time we almost got caught by the cops, and we just managed to get back into the wizarding pub we'd arrived at. And they couldn't see us! Like, we were standing right there watching all these English cops running about and yelling at each other and wondering where the fuck we'd gone..."
"Do you think you can tuck your legs up enough for us to make it through your window? Elbows in, too, and there is over an eighty percent chance that we will make it. A nineteen percent chance that we will have to turn back, and a one percent chance that one or both of use will be sent plummeting to our doom. In the event of such an occurrence, there is a forty percent chance that it would be you, thirty that it would be me, and thirty that we would both lose our grip."
Matt had better tuck his legs in fast. That window is coming up quickly.
He pulls in his legs just in time, tightening his grip around L's waist and ducking his head until his forehead is pressed against the back of his neck. But they make it through, and Matt can't hear the sounds of any major destruction of his stuff, so...
Forty percent of that one percent chance. L wouldn't actually let him get hurt. He might even have been overstating the danger; rounding up, a little, for effect.
Trying very hard not to laugh, he coasts them over the equipment in the room, looking for a clear place to land. His shoulders shake with the repressed humour.
Matt's laughing too, now, though some of it might be from relief. His room is pretty small, and they're effectively flying in tight little circles over everything - lucky the ceiling is so high.
"I think you're going to have to hover over the bed," he says. "Then we can just jump onto it."
He hasn't lifted his head yet. Because he's tired.
"And then you will not have to move. I think it is about time you got some rest."
He sets them down on the bed as best he can; it's not easy, the mattress has too much give for him to get much of a foothold. Oh well, if they fall, the landing is soft.
L is too tall to comfortably stand on furniture. He drops to his knees instead, and then clambers down so he can swing his legs off the side of the bed.
Matt sort of flumps down, pushing his goggles up to rub his eyes briefly. He'd forgotten that L was still wearing a pair, and the sight makes him grin.
"I still can't believe you didn't buy that yellow shirt."
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In aid of not getting too far out, he's turning them around in a gentle curve, going back and upwards, climbing easily.
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It's the same problem as watching sports: if he's going to be sitting staring at a screen, he wants some control of the little figures running about on it. It's why he prefers hacking to spying, too, and where most of his mistakes come from.
"Are you enjoying it?" Matt asks after a moment, referring to flying.
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He isn't having near-death experiences this time, either.
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"It's fun," he says, stifling a yawn. "I know I'll be flying quite a lot." Pause. "Flying a broomstick through London could be interesting..."
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He doesn't seriously want Matt to topple off.
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It's very, very tempting to rest his head on the back of L's shoulder right now. Very tempting. But he doesn't.
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"...maybe we should? If you do not mind my company, I mean." He tacks the second part on as a hasty apology, he shouldn't have assumed.
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He sort of remembers L mentioning that.
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But if that works out, then yes, London and flying might not be bad.
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He's supposed to be Justice, and all. They're now off of the forest, flying over the grass.
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He'd say that even on motorbikes, but come on. Magical flying brooms versus police cars.
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"Maybe so, but probably not for them."
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Matt peers around L's head (there is a lot of hair!) and blinks. "You know you're flying straight at the castle, right?"
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Matt had better tuck his legs in fast. That window is coming up quickly.
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He pulls in his legs just in time, tightening his grip around L's waist and ducking his head until his forehead is pressed against the back of his neck. But they make it through, and Matt can't hear the sounds of any major destruction of his stuff, so...
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Trying very hard not to laugh, he coasts them over the equipment in the room, looking for a clear place to land. His shoulders shake with the repressed humour.
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"I think you're going to have to hover over the bed," he says. "Then we can just jump onto it."
He hasn't lifted his head yet. Because he's tired.
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He sets them down on the bed as best he can; it's not easy, the mattress has too much give for him to get much of a foothold. Oh well, if they fall, the landing is soft.
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L is too tall to comfortably stand on furniture. He drops to his knees instead, and then clambers down so he can swing his legs off the side of the bed.
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"I still can't believe you didn't buy that yellow shirt."
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