Suddenly Travolta slammed his hand on the table. “YOU CAN’T BE FUCKING SERIOUS!” he screamed, then slammed his hand down a second time. Both times, the table in its entirety shook. Unmoved by Travolta’s rage, Regan rolled his shoulder.

“You know that I am. The Emperor did absolutely nothing wrong. It was all Magnus’ fault. All he had to do was listen.”

“Are you listening to yourself, Regan? Magnus tried to warn him!”

“Did the Emperor know that?”

“He would have if he listened for half a fucking second! Whole Horus Heresy – over in a fucking moment if the cunt had just given Magnus the benefit of the doubt instead of throwing the greatest temper tantrum in all of existence.”

“Perhaps Magnus just should have stopped meddling with something he did not understand.”

“Magnus understood perfectly well what he was messing with.”

“No he didn’t – and if the Emperor hadn’t reacted the way he did we wouldn’t have the setting we both love.”

“So you admit it’s shitty writing? Put there only because what needed to happen rather than what should have happened?”

“No, I think the Emperor was secretive for good reasons and Magnus then ruined everything in an instant. Traitor should go to hell – oh wait, he already is there!” Regan finally broke his unmoving stance to slam his hand on the table as well. “The only person worse than Magnus is Lorgar!”

The two middle-aged men kept shouting at each other and Rave pinched the bridge of her nose. “What are they on about?” she mumbled to herself.

“See, there is this universe called Warhammer 40k which represents a grimdark future of humanity where we are ruled by the immortal psyker the God-Emperor, who revealed himself in the thirtieth millennium. He needed to do that after the Golden Age of Technology collapsed in order to guide humanity towards a better future. After unifying the desolate nuclear waste of Earth, or Terra as it was now called, he created 20 Primarchs, super-humans with near godlike abilities, from his own genes. These were however scattered throughout the galaxy by the ruinous powers known as Slaneesh, Nurgle, Tzeentch and Khorne. As he went on his galaxy wide crusade he also wanted to find his sons who were to command the elite force of his army: The Space Marines, super soldiers made from the Primarchs’ genes. The first he found was Horus Lupercal, Primarch of the Lunar Wolves. With his help the Empe-“

“Okay, okay, stop!” Rave shouted. “I just realized that’s what the stupid miniatures are about! Never, ever bring that up to me again.”

John frowned a little bit, he had just started getting into it. Rave’s dislike of 40k was disheartening. He would have loved to have an animated discussion with her about it like Regan and Travolta were having at that very moment.  

“Long story short: It’s a complicated sci-fi universe where people throw insanely overpriced plastic miniatures at each other.” John summarized what was supposed to be a three-page rant in a single sentence.

Rave’s expression went blank. “I’m a desert.”

‘Maybe I could get her hooked on the Warcraft lore instead?’ John theorized. Rave was a weeb, certainly he could pull her a bit into the nerd territory for all the anime he would watch for her? It would only be fair.

“And that is why the Ultramarines could beat an army of Custodes when they fought Chapter versus Chapter.” Regan closed another one of his many, many statements.

“Oh hell no!” John had to intervene. Heads flew around as Travolta and Regan finally took notice of them. “The Custodes are the Emperor’s personal bodyguard and superior to Space Marines in every single way. Without their Primarch the Ultramarines could never hope to win against them.”

“Finally some fucking sense!” Travolta growled.

Regan wagged his finger at John. “You are forgetting that the Space Marines are group based forces while Custodes fight individually. In an engagement the Ultramarines are sure to have the upper hand.”

“You seem to forget that Custodes are not only highly trained soldiers but assassins as well. They would simply find the enemy Chapter Master and dispose of him as well as his stand-ins within an hour. As great as the Ultramarines are, they are nothing without a command structure against the individual skills of the Custodes.”

John’s counter argument was supported by Travolta, who added, “The Custodes also have millennia of experience while the Ultramarines only follow the Codex Astartes. They have no fucking chance.”

Regan clenched his teeth so hard that his lips turned white. “Jane, I don’t think I approved of your relationship with this young man.”

“Yeah, well, I am regretting my choice to date him right now.” She admitted.

The air in the room changed drastically, the disapproving glance of Regan turning cold and hard. “You are?” he asked and stared into John in a whole new way. Previously he had been something his daughter had picked up for entertainment. Now he was an actual stay in her life. “You are dating my daughter?”

“Ehm. Yes?” John turned to his for-the-moment-still girlfriend. Because she was laughing. Triumphantly.

“Hurray, different topic.” Rave attached herself to John’s left arm. “So, dad, I have a boyfriend. Great news, right?”

John had held hands and all that with her in public before. Doing it in front of Regan had the redness rise up in his cheeks.

“Well, I haven’t seen it in the newspapers.” Regan said, trying his best at a dad joke while also being baffled. “So, are you two…after only two weeks…” He mumbled.

“Actually, it was barely one…” John admitted in a similar mumble.

“Are you calling my daughter easy, young man?” He got a stern question.

“No, I mean yes? I mean…we just had a pretty…Rave-mantic moment?” Silence. Rave giggled. Her father burst out in full on laughter.

“A Rave-mantic moment you say? For that pun, I will give you the benefit of the doubt.” With a smile on his otherwise serious face. “I’ll hear the details from my daughter. John, step out for a minute.”

“Dad!” Rave protested.

“No complaining young lady. We will talk this out like a family. Actually, Travolta you go as well.”

“Sure thing, Regan.” Travolta was already on his way to the door, evidently not caring to be part of any of this. He grabbed John on the way out. “You come with me.”

“This’ll be fine, probably,” Rave assured him, while they separated. An uncertain smile was the last thing he saw before the door closed again.

Travolta practically dragged him all the way out of the building. Once outside, the not-at-all-gentle giant lit himself a cigarette. “Thanks for being reasonable down there,” Collide’s leader stated. “Regan’s always all ‘Emperor this, Emperor that’ but then he also thinks the Custodes are garbage because some of them got killed by an Eldar in the Beast Arises.”

“Which we all know isn’t the greatest series of books when it comes to details.”

“Are there any, really?” Travolta grumbled into his cigarette. “I’ll tell you when Regan is done with his daughter… can’t believe he didn’t notice you were dating yet. Was obvious from day one.”

“Was it?” John asked.

Travolta took a deep inhale, then breathed out a path of smoke. “Don’t pat yourself on the back for it, kiddo. Rave’s been bored out of her fucking skull forever and Jimmy can’t hold a conversation with her without getting pissed and stomping off. Moment you managed to keep up with her shenanigans was the moment you had her. No fucking clue if that makes you special. Doesn’t really matter either.” Travolta tapped his cigarette and ash fell to the pavement. “The fewest people are born special. Some people are the Apex, the rest of us have to carve a fucking place out with our choices. Even if anyone who got a bit of patience could’ve started dating her, you’re the one that got it, right?”

“Right,” John agreed. All of that felt… more profound than he had expected from Travolta. “How… are you doing?” he asked carefully.

“Fucking dreading the moment, I have go back down there and play Blood Ravens versus my Necrons. Haven’t had luck in months.” He finished up the cigarette. “Although that’s changing recently. Whole Bloodfallen alliance was a much needed break.”

John quietly threw Observe at the man.

Travola had gained another 4 levels over the past week. That was all that had changed, as far as John could see. Perhaps all of this was fine? A title like ‘Bloodaddict’ did not indicate fine but what did John know about the Abyss?

“Hey, kiddo… let me give you a word of advice from one man to another,” Travolta said. “On one hand, don’t fuck this up. You never know when you wake up in your thirties, wondering why you got nothing permanent in your life.” Travolta dropped the butt of his cigarette and stamped it out. “And also, don’t ever think that you’re done just because you have fucked up all the time so far. We’re humans and humans are never done improving.”

Travolta wasn’t even looking in John’s direction as he said that. The questions that still lingered at the back of his mind, this was another time not to ask them. Every nonverbal queue told John to leave the middle aged man to his pondering.

“…I’ll think about it,” he finally responded. “I’ll check out the games they got.”

Travolta just nodded.