28 and 25. So 11 and 8 years his senior. When they were all goofing off like this, the idea seemed surreal; even if he'd never been to one, John imagined that high school house parties must've been a lot like this, albeit with more people and less privacy.
He liked it better this way. He'd never been one to let many people into his circle of esteem, to put it very mildly: more accurately put, he hated pretty much everyone. But the Aldersons were alright.
God, he was relaxed. The information that had scrolled constantly across his mind like a news ticker since he'd turned 12 years old - temperatures and potential combustion rates of everything in range, hot spots he could likely manipulate, actual points of ignition like Elliot's cigarette standing out as white-hot pinpoints in his awareness - all of that suddenly seemed to be moving through molasses. A distant smile twisting his lips, he turned around so that his back was facing the couch and leaned back against it, quite close to Elliot's legs but not actually touching them. He was unusually quiet, and had been for a little while aside from his odd questions.
"This is fucking awesome," he finally said in a low, sleepy monotone, not really clarifying just what was so awesome, but it was pretty obvious. Compared to his usual aggressive, probing energy, the air John gave off now was nearly comatose.
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He liked it better this way. He'd never been one to let many people into his circle of esteem, to put it very mildly: more accurately put, he hated pretty much everyone. But the Aldersons were alright.
God, he was relaxed. The information that had scrolled constantly across his mind like a news ticker since he'd turned 12 years old - temperatures and potential combustion rates of everything in range, hot spots he could likely manipulate, actual points of ignition like Elliot's cigarette standing out as white-hot pinpoints in his awareness - all of that suddenly seemed to be moving through molasses. A distant smile twisting his lips, he turned around so that his back was facing the couch and leaned back against it, quite close to Elliot's legs but not actually touching them. He was unusually quiet, and had been for a little while aside from his odd questions.
"This is fucking awesome," he finally said in a low, sleepy monotone, not really clarifying just what was so awesome, but it was pretty obvious. Compared to his usual aggressive, probing energy, the air John gave off now was nearly comatose.