om_main | Damon and Philip, Saturday Night

When Damon finds Philip in the Danger Gym, the two don't exactly see eye to eye, and things nearly come to blows.

It probably wasn't healthy, Philip knew, to be running scenarios late into the night instead of sleeping but... well, he didn't feel like sleeping. Or rather, it wasn't that he didn't feel like it exactly, but he was working on how to be effective with little sleep and setting up the habit to catch it when he could. It was also considerably easier to try and set up his little exercises well into the off hours. There were far fewer questions that way about why exactly he kept getting the flashing "parameters exceeded" warnings.

He also wasn't fond of witnesses seeing him want to take a hammer to the console after about the sixth such warning. There were technology limits, he entirely understood that but nothing he wanted to do was that dangerous.

Exactly.

Depending on the students who'd try them. And so maybe he was trying to set up a few more hazards than paint balls or beanbags. A little jolt never hurt anyone who had a healthy heart and nervous system, right?

In general, Damon ignored the so-called Danger Gym. For one thing, he barely bothered with the regular gym, and only on the rare occasions when he did visit, it was really only to maintain his physique, or to work out with LeBeau.

In fact, he hadn't even bothered to venture down into the sublevels of the mansion until recently - when he realized that not knowing what was down there meant idiocy on his part. He didn't exactly plan to use the room for anything (other than the squad training), but he did figure that he needed to know the layout.

Which...was why he had appeared in the doorway of the room, leaning there quietly as he studied what Philip was doing.

It was a mark of Philip being very tired that he didn't notice the little prickle until what would have been far too late. Very disappointing... He didn't turn, at worst he was mistaken and would be addressing an empty room but the practice never hurt. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Damon narrowed a look at Philip's back. "I've got it. Your mutation is having eyes in the back of your head."

"And good evening to you, Damon. That would actually be uncomfortable, don't you think? Or you'd have to shave the back of your head constantly, also uncomfortable." Philip frowned down at his console and twitched another few numbers. Still no good, those beanbags and paint balls didn't work up enough velocity to emulate snipers well. Disappointing. "Were you wanting to use the room? It's annoyingly picky about having spotters."

"So I've heard," the other teen drawled. "Actually, I'm more interested in what you are doing here, late at night, alone, trying to hack the computer's program." Okay, so maybe he wasn't actually hacking. Damon couldn't tell. But whatever he was doing, it didn't look like he was ordering pizza.

"I'm not hacking, I wouldn't have any idea to start." And frankly, if he needed hacking, Philip would immediately go to Tessa. "I'm just seeing how flexible this thing is, how far you can push what's allowed. Call it curiosity. As for why, I felt like it? I didn't have anything else to do right now."

"So instead of a TV show, or a game of Risk, or a dip in the pool, you decided that it was more fun to try to figure out how far you could push the school's state-of-the-art technology," Damon reasoned, his tone more than a little dry. "Seriously, do you have a life?"

"Last I checked, yes. Consider it a hobby," Philip said. He swiveled in his chair to look at Damon, keeping his eyes fixed at roughly mouth level. Close enough to looking him in the face, but not too close. "I could ask the same question, what with you showing up."

"I lurk," Damon confessed, not at all repentant. And, in fact, rather amused at Phil avoiding his gaze. "I'm a lurker."

"I'd have thought you'd have something better to do," Philip said. He wasn't the slightest bit embarrassed by not meeting Damon in the eye, as far as he was concerned, that was just good planning. "I thought you were all about the instant gratification."

"Well," the other teen smirked, pushing off of the doorframe to join the other in the room. "That just goes to show that you're not as good at this game as you think you are."

It was more that Philip had far more on his mind than Damon, but he certainly didn't have a problem with being underestimated. "I understand you'd lost your crown of most terrible person at the school," he said mildly.

"A temporary setback," Damon agreed, dropping himself into the seat next to Philip to kick his legs up onto the control panel.

"I ask again," Philip said as he flicked a glance towards Damon's feet, to be sure he hadn't hit something disastrous by accident (or knowing him, design). "Can I help you with something? Or are you just here to annoy me?"

"That last part does sound awfully entertaining," the raven-haired teen answered blithely. "Or we could play twenty questions."

"This again?" Philip asked dryly. "You do realize I could just tell you whatever ridiculous thing that comes to mind."

Damon smiled. "You do realize I could just compel you to tell me the truth."

"That would be unwise. Also, you're assuming that I'd be stupid enough to look you in the eye," Philip said flatly. Not his usual turn of phrase, no, but blunt occasionally had its uses.

"The eye wanders. You'll do it eventually, whether you want to or not," Damon answered, though he didn't at all seem that interested in forcing Philip's hand. "So what kind of scenarios are you running?"

"Nothing important, I was curious as to how far you can push the safeties in here," Philip said with a shrug. "Right now, they're fairly low. You'd have to really work at it to hurt yourself in there."

"Which is, obviously, something you're intensely interested in doing," Damon observed, one dark eyebrow lifted as he watched.

"What, hurting myself?" Philip still didn't look Damon in the eye, but the quirk to his own features spoke volumes. "I can assure you, I'm not a masochist, and that one's even the actual truth."

"So you admit that you're a liar," the other teen smirked.

"No, I just confirmed that was the truth, as you seem so eager to think the worst of me," Philip said easily. "I've never found lying to be all that useful, truth be told."

"'And that one's even the actual truth,'" Damon mimicked. "That implies that most of your other responses weren't."

"You're right, there was that implication that could lead to an assumption. A false one, mind you, but I'll give you that one." Philip said as he turned brief attention back to the console with just enough to keep the session active.

Damon rolled his eyes and pushed to his feet. "Yep. You're boring even when you're sneaking around and being evasive."

And just because he felt like being an ass (what was it about Damon that brought that tendency out in him? It was very disconcerting when Philip poked at it.) "Then my work here is complete."

Damon wasn't sure if the answer annoyed him, or amused him, but either way, he was moving before he could think about it, sweeping a foot out and reaching with a hand to knock the chair out from under his stoic nemesis.

Philip was moving before he'd realized it, weight shifted up onto his feet to let the chair shoot out from under him and out of the way, hands moving to trap Damon's reaching wrist as Philip rocked forward to stand. A twist and reposition of his grip had Damon's arm twisted behind him, elbow and shoulder joints locked up as Philip shoved, intent on slamming Damon against the wall.

The little part of him that was thinking registered that Damon was considerably more solid than he seemed to be, much like Philip himself, and his breath huffed out in a grunt at the effort to get him to move. That little thinking part, the one separate from the reflexes running the show, was also in full panic mode from being blown.

For his part, Damon hadn't been expecting Philip's retaliation to come quite so immediately. Later, he might reflect on that fact, but in the heat of the moment, with the wrench and Philip's weight, he stumbled up against the wall. Granted, they were of a similar size and build, but Phil apparently had more specialized training than bo lessons with Remy and self-defense with Judd.

As soon as the air huffed out of him, though, his own defenses kicked in, and Damon's hunger reached out through the connection at his wrist, feeding off of the adrenaline-fueled energy pumping through his assailant.

It took a few moments for the sensation to penetrate to the forefront of Philip's attention, he was aware enough of his own body and responses to know that whatever he was feeling was Not Normal. He dropped his grip immediately, yanking his hands back like he'd been burned, before retreating a few steps. Gloves, the rational part was saying, he needed to look into gloves... The rest of him was fighting the need to lock his knees against the dizziness, knowing that he might need to move and move fast. He didn't say anything, just watched Damon, cat--cautious. What the hell could he say right then anyway?

When his arm was released, Damon turned, raising his other hand to rub at his shoulder joint, his gaze narrowed at the other teen. Despite his ire, though, most of the expression was wariness. Philip was obviously a hell of a lot more than he let on, and he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Damon couldn't count on his powers to protect him the next time the boy flipped his shit. "Might want to watch where you put your hands, Agent."

One deep breath, then another brought Philip back to center. The worst of the dizziness had faded, but he wasn't about to trust it would stay that way. He brought his hands down to twitch his shirt cuffs straight, it was a bad habit but one he'd never managed to break himself of. "And I would recommend, perhaps, that you might be more cautious about just who you bait in the future, Incubus." Code name for code name, neither a confirmation or denial about what they could mean.

Damon turned, heading toward the door, making sure to show his back to the other teen the entire time. Maybe Phil was a problem, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let the guy see that he cared. "Might want to get to a bed, Coulson, before you wind up on the floor. Thanks for the top-off, by the way."

Philip smiled pleasantly, holding onto the casual pose with everything he had. "Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Salvatore. Do try to stay out of trouble."

He was definitely one to watch, especially now. Philip had to wonder how hard this was going to come back to bite him later...