"So... wait." You bounce the device in your hands up and down. It looks like a gun, but something about its weight and look makes you unsure. "What's this?"
This is a bulbous contraption with a nozzle on one end framed by three spindling... "arms". The other end holds a small joystick under what you can presume is the wrist guard. For the life of you, you can't imagine why they called you up at midnight, down to their basement, just to look at a plastic mechanism.
Your friend gives you a narrow-eyed look. You know it well; they give it whenever they think you've said something idiotic. Really, though, you've stopped caring when they think you're stupid.
"It's a Portal gun," they reply. The insult they don't say is apparent in their tone.
So it is a gun. "A Por... so it makes portals, right?"
"It's in the name, isn't it?" Their disgusted tone disguises another insult and they stare at you with knitted brows. "Didn't you ever play the game?"
Your head cocks to the side. "There's a game?"
They roll their eyes and this point, you consider it a miracle they've never given themself an aneurysm with the way they keep reacting. "Yeah? Aperture Science... Have to escape a homicidal robot named GLaDOS..." The anger on their face shifts quickly to shock when you don't respond. "Don't tell me you've never played it!"
"What's it called?"
The "portal gun" jostles in your hands when your friend lashes out and punches you - the typical response you get when you say something you don't like. Pain blooms across your forearm like ink through water. Suddenly, the gun seems heavier.
"It's called Portal, dumbass." They point to the wall behind them, painted white like the rest of them, with their thumb. "Now shoot it."
"Uh..." You grip what you think you've established is the handle with one hand. "Pew-pew?"
"No, nimrod! Like this." They snatch the gun from you - which isn't hard to do considering how the muscles in your arm aches - and point it at the wall they pointed at. When they fire, a straight stream of neon blue goop sprays out and hits its mark, forming a nearly-perfect oval. Blue light of the same color emits from the top of the gun, shining through all the spindly arms.
"Now check this shit out."
They fire next at the ceiling about your heads and this time, the goop is orange. The instant it makes impact, you realize that you can see yourself... The... side of yourself?
"What?" The laws of physics - and chemistry, you think - dictate that this is unreal... right?
"It's totally legit." Your friend grabs you by the shoulders and plants you more directly under the orange oblong. You hear them set the gun down on a metal table. "Now stay here - and be prepared to catch."
"Wait wha-" But they're already sprinting for the blue ring against the wall. When you look up, they're falling through the orange one... and straight into you. You step back to catch them, only to have their sudden weight send you both crashing to the ground. Your foot knocks into a table, sending it rolling away.
"You're a sucky catch," they mutter, rubbing their backside. "But that doesn't matter."
Excitement - at least, theirs - fills the room and thickens in your throat. You're still wondering just how the device works...
When you're both standing, your friend clasps your shoulders, much to your discomfort.
"Let me go, please," you say, not because you want them to but because you're suddenly scared what you might say in the heat of things if they don't.
"Dude." They lean in close enough that you think they could kiss you. But then you realize that's a ridiculous notion.
"Dude?" you reply. It's a fight to keep your eyes on theirs.
"We have a motherfucking Portal gun."
You nod. "Indeed we do, Thomas. Indeed we do." You don't even stop to ask them where they got it.