Warren's always been a little thickheaded, mind too high in the clouds and filled with a collection of equations, formulas, and a too long list of sci-fi and cult movies, but he is by no means an idiot.

He likes Max. He really does. Seeing her after class, or in the hallways, or outside in the courtyard never fails to make his stomach flutter and lips curl up. It's usually so easy to talk to her — sometimes his tongue feels like lead in his mouth, like it's bolted to his teeth — and he likes that there's something he can't see, some mystery to her that he's not quite so sure was there before the day Nathan had clocked him so hard he spent that night nursing a slice of cold pizza in a plastic bag to his eye.

But he's not an idiot.

( Well, at first, he kind of is. But he'll keep his initial obliviousness a secret. )

It does take some time, but eventually he does notice. He notices the little things; how distracted Max looks when they're hanging out, staring out the window and at her phone. And her looking at her phone wouldn't be such a problem if there weren't such mirth in her eyes when she looked at the screen, the white light illuminating the joy brimming within her irises.

( She of course does pay him mind, he wouldn't ever say otherwise. She trades dorky jokes with him and they talk about World of Warcraft and argue over whether or not Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within could even count as a cinematic work. However, the amusement in her eyes is much different than the one that comes from that single mystery text. )

And then he puts it all together, when he spots Chloe and Max in the courtyard. Or, more accurately, when he sees Chloe dash up to Max and sweep the smaller girl into her arms, lifting a laughing bundle of photographer into the air and kissing her slow and warm.

Oh. Max is gay, he thinks at first, mind numb and slow to processing. And then he thinks that's probably not the biggest issue here, no. It's not something that changes who Max is, what he thinks about her.

The biggest issue is that Chloe's text from a time not too long ago wasn't just a joke.

Warren does end up back in his dorm, in the dark, blanket draped over his shoulders and fingers covered in butter from microwaved popcorn. Between his crossed legs sits the bowl, and in front sits his laptop, flashing screen projecting a movie onto puffy eyes.

( "Don't let the other guys catch you crying Warren. You got this, my man, toootally chill." Warren had mumbled the whole way to his dorm, sniffing a little too loudly. )

The next day, he wakes up with a snotty nose, sticky cheeks, and newly found resolve. He knows just what he has to do, and this thought sticks with him as he forces himself out of bed and blows into a greasy napkin that smells like butter. It sticks with him while he grabs his shower supplies and heads to the bathroom, when he narrowly avoids Logan shoving him into a wall.

... right up until he's actually dressed, holding his phone and squinting at the contact number of one Chloe Price.

He sucks in a breath, swallowing hard and wincing as he opens up the keypad. As his fingers make contact with the buttons, he finds himself holding a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding until his lungs start to burn. He exhales and then mutters something along the lines of, "What would Captain Kirk do?" before pressing 'Send'.

Just only two minutes later, he hears the ding of what he assumes is probably certain death. Chloe is pretty scary, after all.

Chloe Price
dunno y ur texting me but if u r paying i'll c u there
10/20 12:14pm

Warren stares in surprise at the easy permission, shoots off a text agreeing to pay, and then takes off from the dorms.

In retrospect, he shouldn't be surprised at all when he's sitting there alone for 28 minutes and 52 seconds before she actually strides in, swagger and all, looking very much the same as she looks when she's hanging off Max. He already has a coffee and has been going ham on a basket of fries while waiting, so when she sits, he swallows and nervously pushes the thing towards her.

Chloe looks at the fries, and then at him, before smirking and leaning back comfortably against the seat. She takes a few between her fingers and jams them in her mouth, swallowing before even speaking. "So, what's Max's not-so-secret admirer want from me?"

Warren hides the wince he almost instinctively gives at the topic. He spent enough time beating himself up over it last night.

"Uh, actually—"

"No, don't worry, I get it. You want to take up my offer on that sweet girl on girl action. Dude. You've got major balls."

Warren feels his face go hot and Chloe grins, but there's this glint in her eyes that he's not sure is mirthful or predatory. It might be something like both, and he hastily grabs his cup and drinks a mouthful of coffee.

"N-No. No. Uh. I actually wanted to talk about you and Max, but not like that, I swear—" Warren rambles slightly, and Chloe actually raises a brow and idly scoops up a few more fries.

"You're not going to ask me about like, the shit she likes, right? Because uh, sorry to lay it on you, but..."

"I know." Warren cuts her off, mildly frustrated. This seems to catch Chloe by surprise, eyes wide, and then she scoffs and runs a hand through the only part of her hair not hidden by her beanie.

"Alright, you're hella serious. I'm listening." She mutters, miffed by his clear disapproval of her teasing. She shovels more fries down her throat.

Warren hesitates then, given full permission to speak. Even though Chloe is eating, her eyes are so trained on him it makes him nervous, and his words stick to his throat. He almost totally forgets what to say, but then he thinks about Max, and how nice she looks when she laughs, and he forces his speech out.

"So, I don't know if you and Max are actually like, a thing, but if you are you totally need to know that she's literally the best thing that could probably happen to anyone. Like, ever. So I don't know what's up, but as long as you make her happy, it's whatever. And if not—"

"There's no if not." Chloe interjects, voice rough. She's staring at him hard, jaw tight, and if Warren didn't already think about the possibility he'd die this afternoon, he'd probably be sweating bullets. Right now, he's just gripping his mug harder than expected, staring Chloe right in the eye.

Chloe's blue eyes search him with something like a glare, and thankfully, a waitress comes by to take Chloe's order. She gets a burger while Warren contemplates why he thought this was an even moderately okay idea.

Doing anything for Max seems like a good idea. Making sure Max is okay is worth every stupid word and every punch, as proven by Nathan Prescott.

Chloe suddenly sighs, exaggerated and long, and crosses her arms. "I can't believe you're totally pulling this white knight shit on me right now."

Warren's lip twitches down into a frown at that, and he starts to say something. Chloe is very quick to continue, either not noticing his attempt to speak, or not caring enough to listen.

"You're a total dweeb— not that people who hang with Max usually aren't."

"Hey—"

"But you're not too bad. Seeing you beat the shit out of Prescott was pretty amazeballs. So obviously, you care, or... whatever." Chloe's tone eases up, and Warren kind of senses the shift in the atmosphere, like Chloe has loosened up that razor sharp tongue.

This is a topic Warren can get behind, though. He interjects quickly, almost desperate to get his words in. "Max is radical, so..."

"I know." And this time, Chloe's a little softer. Well. Right up until she shoves a fry in her mouth and glances out the window. Warren's tense shoulders slump slightly, and he leans back. "That dork sure is something. That's why no one's good enough for her."

Warren pauses. "Except for you?"

Chloe tenses, and then smirks and leans forward again. "Uh, hell fucking yeah? No offense."

"None taken." Warren reassures, palms up and an anxious little chuckle working it's way out through his mouth. This isn't really how he expected this conversation to go; he's heard that Chloe Price is tough to crack.

"Great, cause I'm not taking it back." Chloe, doing no such feat to prove her point, wipes her hands on her already stained jeans. Warren can't help the amused grin that catches on his lips as he watches Chloe do something so simple like that without a single damn care, and he thinks about how often Max wipes her hands on napkins just to keep herself from doing that exact thing.

( She usually ends up doing it anyways, with a groan of, "Aw, man," followed by Warren's laughter. )

God. Warren wonders how these two got so mixed up in each other.

"So, uh... you and Max, how..." Goddamnit. Warren's brain works faster than his mouth sometimes, so his thoughts tumble out anyways.

Chloe freezes for a moment, and Warren's afraid he's said something wrong.

"You're a total science geek, right?"

The waitress comes and places Chloe's burger — paid for with his cash — in front of her, and she picks it up with nimble fingers and shrugs at Warren's nod.

"Ever heard of Chaos Theory?"

—

When Chloe finishes her plate, Warren has learned two things.

1. Chloe Price is much more intelligent than she lets up on.

2. The punk's ability to talk with her mouth full should probably be classified a talent.

What he hasn't learned, is just what he'd asked.

The way Chloe speaks is like her and Max have gone through more than anyone will ever understand. Like it's this grand thing, like there are too many variables and too many instances to even compile them in one. And it doesn't help that she's so vague. She purposely stops, dances around whatever is so massive.

But he knows it's not something simple.

Not with the way she paused mid-sentence, and not due to the chewed up contents in her mouth. It's in the lock of her jaw, the tightness of her grip onto an unassuming cup full of soda.

"Yeah, so, uh." Chloe clears her throat, smoothly slides out of the seat. "Just boils down to the fact that I'm hot as fuck and Max couldn't hide her raging lady boner for me."

This time, Warren does laugh. He covers his face and thinks about how much of an enigma she is. How much of an enigma they are. He's learned absolutely nothing, and now he has so, so many more questions than answers.

Deep down, he knows it's useless. And he could say that Chloe's bullshitting him, acting like this is such a huge deal, but he's seen the slight shift in Max's demeanor.

Max is different. She's not the doe eyed girl he'd met the first week of Blackwell; she's attentive, she's always got an anxious sort of edge to her.

He's worried. Though now he knows Chloe seems to get it, so he's slightly less worried.

If Max won't lean on him, then it's obviously because she's been leaning on her. And he supposes that's okay, too.

"Cool, I get it." He lies.

Chloe raises a brow at him, knowingly, and then she taps the table with her hand. "Uh-huh. See you around, Graham."

"Wait, hold up!" Warren gets up and Chloe blinks at him. He nearly loses his nerve again, but then he leans against the table, trying to play it cooler than his quickly excitable expression shows.

"We should totally talk again, like, some other time. It'd be radical to cook up some experiments together."

Chloe — to her credit — seems kind of shocked by his question. She patches that up and clears her throat. "Making the moves on me now, huh?" She says coyly, putting her hand on her hip.

Warren stuffs his hands into his pockets, grounding himself in response to her taunting words. "Nah, you just know your stuff. You're... You're pretty cool. Like I said, I see why she digs you."

Chloe watches him, and this time she reaches out to shove his shoulder. "Deal, if you teach me how to make that wicked pipe bomb."

Warren blinks, and then his eyes widen, realization sinking in. "Wait, how'd..."

"Thanks for the food, nerd." Chloe grins wide and turns on her heel, disappearing before Warren can grill her for answers.

Those two really were an enigma.