Room 401, Sunday Evening

Victor's entire birthday celebration this year had consisted of two jelly donuts at J,GoBs, and he was totally fine with that. First, because he was turning 19, and that wasn't really a big birthday no matter how you looked at it -- he'd been legally old enough to vote for a year, but wouldn't be able to buy a beer to celebrate for two more. (It also made him feel like a little bit of a dumbass, still being in high school at 19. Though he figured spending a year in an underground teen crimefighting gang would put a lot of people off-schedule.)

Second, it was a pretty arbitrary date. Maybe it was literally the day he was made, maybe Ultron had just picked a month and a day at random. Wherever it had come from, it wasn't like he was even the ghost of an idea on February 16, 1995.

Isabelle had called off their date on account of kids, and Victor had no particular other plans for the day. (He also had no kids this year -- a fact that he had decidedly mixed feelings about.) He'd gotten a couple birthday greetings on Facebook, and he spent some time thanking people before settling down with his physics textbook. Science was his birthday party this year.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]