That was glorious fun. We had lunch and generalized silliness at his place. I went home after I got too tired. I'd been up all night, so I went to bed pretty late.
This Monday, I didn't get to bed until late, and didn't wake up until late, but still wound up over there all the same. There was more Slayers (we finished out Season 1) and assorted silliness (again; we're good at that). Something in one of the episodes led to him asking about minions, and me responding with a dangerous note in my voice, "Do you think I'd make a good minion?" -- the note demanded that the answer was going to be "no", although in point of fact I'm a minion of two separate people, possibly five, and I'm quite cheerful with that status. This led to some Wizards of the Coast animation. (He paused us right in the middle, for the "I get a minion!" bit.) After we finished up Season 1, we hung out and talked shop.
I've got to get his ass dragged backwards into some writing improvement sources, as he would be made exceptionally happy if his writing got better, and it sounds like he hasn't a clue which direction to go for that.
(I can't afford for Darkside to start thinking of me as a potential minion unless he's prepared to take on the other things that would come with me becoming his minion, and that ... that would not be happening, no. ((These are specific to him/me master/minion dynamics, rather than to anyone/me dynamics.)) Alas.)
I mentioned the current project when I wound up taking notes for it in the middle of Slayers. The origins didn't come up (heh) but the general description did, and he sounded entertained and interested, and he quipped "What, *Dark* Knight?" when I mentioned the theme of the comic relief episode was Mr. Knight's laundry. :D (Either he knows me too well, or ... something.)
I'll need to inquire after his schedule. He bitched about his Physics class; he's already set up a mutual loathing society with the teacher. (Well, at least monodirectional loathing.) Also, his parents should be due back ... sometime.
He'd lost a piece of writing that he did while at one of the day jobs; I just might have it. He'd particularly liked that piece; if I still have it, I liked it too, so that makes two of us. If I have it, I'll be getting it back to him so he can retype it, since he'd hate to have it lost forever. I typed up the first few lines of both. It was in the first folder I looked in. (His room is scary. He's not letting me go in it, as he has to roll against tripping and killing himself, and I am more of a klutz than he is. I saw through the crack before he smacked the door shut that there is, like, no floor. I win the "I can see most of my floor" contest this week, last week, this month, and probably all of next month too.)