Who: Andy Turnbull and Dart Hatton What: Bumping into’s Where: A bus from Renton to Seattle, WA. When: We’ll say today. >_> Warnings: References to drug usage, alcoholism, racism, and likely swearing at the least. Oh and semi-completeness.
Time and time again, Andy had found herself relieved she didn’t own a car anymore. Beyond the small issue of the idea of being behind a wheel was enough to send her into a cold sweat, it had it’s economical benefits. Oh sure, it meant that she didn’t have any monthly payments for a hunk of metal that was likely to break down on her or insurance to take care of. But being responsible for others was no longer her concern, even if the trials of public transportation were highly annoying. Even for someone who relied on it. She’d travelled across the country on Amtrak and Greyhounds, mainly but it didn’t stop her from detesting regular old buses.
Unfortunately, she could no more afford a ride in a taxi (which had it’s downsides as well) from Renton then she could afford a new jacket. Her ratty old denim thing was pulled tighter about her as Andy climbed into the Mears bus. It barely kept the wind from biting at her, which said something. She shivered on the top step for a moment before getting a push to move further down. Right. She adjusted her backpack, moving towards the row before the backseat. Less likely to end up with someone next to her there. Bag got shoved under the seat in front of her and her head rested against the cold glass of the window. Voices carrying from the row behind said that gas prices were up - bitterly, she guessed the car was even less of an economic venture. No luxuries or fights from a stinky, claustrophobic bus, bumping across the highway.
Frankly, Andy was ready to begin questioning if coming out to Renton was even worth the price of the round-trip bus ticket. No luck on that second job. Answering that ad had been for bust. People needed to specify when they were only looking to hire tall blondes who wouldn’t talk back when you mentioned their breasts. She tugged her jacket a little closer unconsciously. She shouldn’t have been bothered, but then again little things did. Constantly.
She kicked her booted feet up onto backpack for something to rest them. Making sure no one was coming to her row - unsurprising and again, her intention. People didn’t like coming into the back and she didn’t necessarily want to see people coming towards her and then refusing to even sit next to her. High school all over again. Not something she felt like reliving. - As no one was coming though, she felt comfortable with adjusting her mid-thigh skirt over leggings. No one to give her a ‘what the fuck, do it in private’ look here. The wrinkling would drive her insane during the ride. She had a right to adjust it, thank you very much. Dart was panting as he ran towards the bus, one hand on his fedora to keep it from falling off, the other gripping the strap of his battered messenger bag as it bounced against his leg, wishing desperately that the heaviness in his limbs would dissipate. Shit, shit, shit! He could not miss his ride. He had another deal he needed to settle today, and he wouldn’t be able to make it if he didn’t catch this bus back to Seattle. Normally it wasn’t a problem getting places since he tended to drive most everywhere, but he didn’t want anyone to see his license plate in case he was tailed or got caught. Especially considering the amount of X and crank he had on him. Well, used to have- now it was just his usual amount of heroin and a helluva lot of cash. He hadn’t gone to jail so far in his career as a dealer, and he didn’t want to change that now.
Thankfully, the bus hadn’t left when he finally took those last few steps to the doors, fishing out the ticket from his pocket and sliding it into the box next to the driver. The doors closed with a snick behind him, and the bus lurched into motion before Dart could even start walking towards a seat. Stumbling a little, he turned to glare momentarily at the driver before flicking him off, resettling his hat on his head, and heading towards the back of the bus. He always sat in the back- fewer people sat there, and those that did tended to be the more interesting ones who were open to talking with other strangers. Well, at least in his experience.
He flopped down in the row second from the back, across from a girl that was messing with her tights or her skirt or something- Dart had quickly averted his gaze, just like he always did when something like that happened. He hadn’t had a big enough dose this morning to deal with that shit right now. He was still having a bit of a hard time catching his breath, possibly due to the drugs, but more likely to do with the fact that he hadn’t eaten breakfast and then just ran about a block to catch the bus. Not that food would be a problem now- the deal had gone off without a hitch, which meant he had money again. Which meant he could afford more drugs, and might even have enough to spare on some food.
As his heart rate started to slow and get away from it’s previous uneven and faltering pace, he looked around at the other people in the back. They all looked completely boring- except for the girl across from him. Especially as now she wasn’t making him feel as awkward as hell. He turned in his seat so that his legs were sprawled across the aisle and his right arm was resting on the back of the seat, trying to get as comfortable as possible. It was a long drive back to Seattle, and Dart had no intentions of being bored throughout the trip, especially if he couldn’t get another hit between now and then. And what better way to entertain himself then by starting up a conversation with a pretty girl?
“Y’know,” he told the girl conversationally. “I think th’ run up ‘ere woulda been a helluva lot easier if I’da had wheels on th’ bottoms of m’shoes.” He lifted up one of his feet for emphasis, showing off his ratty black converse with the sole peeling off. “Jus’ look at ‘em! They’re great an’ all, but if we could jus’ roll around everywhere, it’d sure make life better, yeah?” He moved his free hand sideways through the air for emphasis, making a soft ‘whoosh’ sound as he did so. “Prob’ly more fun, too.” As the bus was finally about to pull off, some schmuck ran up. Andy didn’t dare bite back her groan - because she had no reason to not voice her displeasure, even if an old biddy in front of her turned about and gave her a foul look. Suck it up. She was entitled to grouch - and no, there was no oxymoron in there. They were going to take this much longer to get back to Seattle. She crossed her arms below her chest, sinking lower in her seat as the guy clambered into the back. Just her luck.
She gave him a further look as the bus turned out on the highway - sizing up as she did everyone. He didn’t get points for being handsome - nor for his ratty look. She’d learned enough to look fondly on those. Catching sight of the shoes - just as he spoke to her - she had the assumption he was homeless. Great, a bum. Like she needed more of those in her life.
Ordinarily, she’d have responded to such with a caustic comment - they were called heelies or rollerblades, use your brain, pinhead. But the accent threw her off. Not the sort of thing one heard about Seattle. Heck, the USA in general unless you were trying to show off how you could do a better accent then Dick Van Dyke. Andy frowned, angling her body a little towards him - because he was either a method actor or an immigrant. No one that worn down was a tourist. Then it hit her what he said.
What started as a side glance became a full on look of bewilderment. She knew the reference far too well - though most days she treated reincarnation as a simple fact of life. And granted, most people she knew hadn’t even heard of the film. Huh. Which made him one of two things which were just as unlikely as the other - a. he was a fan or b. he was Valentine. Or the more unlikely was c. that he was a loon that honestly meant it. Andy made a face, before going with a half answer. "That wasn't what I was thinking. You looked a little like a guy who'd seen his future as a waiter. Running like hell there." Her eyes flicked down to his shoes. "And for the record, I think you'd be better off in slippers." Dart watched with a certain sense of satisfaction and amusement as her expression changed from annoyed to displeased to just completely confused. He loved seeing people’s reactions to his accent. More then once he’d been accused of faking it for the attention, but more often then not, people tended to be a bit enamored. He hadn’t the faintest idea why so many Americans had such an infatuation with British accents, but he wasn’t complaining. Honestly, he thought that American had much stranger and more varied accents then the people back in the U.K.
His jaw dropped when she mentioned the word ‘waiter.’ He sat up in his seat a little, slamming his foot back onto the ground with enough force that a couple of people glanced at him with worry. Not that he noticed, or cared. “I’d never be a waiter!” He was beyond offended at the very notion, and it definitely showed. “Never- not ‘n any kinda future! S’beyond ridiculous! ‘D rather starve. Fuckin’ fruit was a lie.” The last part was grumbled out, just barely loud enough for her to hear it.
It wasn’t until the slipper comment really had a chance to sink that he realized what exactly was going on. Was it? No, it couldn’t have been! The likelihood of him running into Helena was beyond minuscule. Especially on a bus of all places. No, it was just a coincidence. Or maybe she was a fan of the movie? Either way, he decided to run with it. “Tha’s disgustin’.” He told her firmly. “Slippers. They’re disgustin’. Makes it look like you’re walkin’ around wiv little rabbits on your feet. S’cruel!” He glanced at her footwear- nope, not slippers. “An’ I see you’re not practicin’ whatchu preach, sweetheart. Good on you for tha’, though.”
He cocked his head to the side, squinting a bit at her as he gave her a long look. “Wha’s your name?” Andy had been called the Queen of Cynics in the past. But the guy's reaction was too abrupt - too in character - for her to not believe. There was no chance this was anyone else. It was funny really - Andy had known she was a reincarnate for more then half her life. She'd never come across another reincarnate - but then again, she'd never really looked for them either. As far as she knew it was a rarity: she might be one of the only ones to exist. Maybe a selfish notion, but Andy was a selfish person. The chances of this random hobo on a bus from Renton being Valentine was ridiculous. Her lips quirked slightly, a rarity when sober. Andy never did more then the vague smirk otherwise. She turned more towards him, an arm resting on the back of the seat next to her. "Why not? It's a respectable profession. No worse then juggling at any rate."
His look was a good sign. Knowing. Sizing. Her expression twitched. "Nah-" And she held up a laced up ankle boot. Practical and going with most outfits. "They're quite useful and some people ARE fond of taxidermy." Foot down, she gave him a long mock-serious look. "I'm not in pajamas either. Slippers are for special occasions."
Good question. And probably the give point if he was (he HAD to be) Valentine. "Nothing too romantic." Which sparked a snort. "And it depends: Andrea, Andy, Helena." Her tone was light but her eyes never left his. Funny, two minutes ago he was some random jerk. Right now, she was about ready to hang off of every word. Dart stuck out his tongue, still looking completely disgusted. “Lies ‘n blasphemy! Jugglin’s a proper profession, it is. Summit nice ‘n poetic ‘bout it, yeah? Not like bein’ a waiter.” He pulled another grossed out expression, shuddering a little.
“Slippers are rubbish,” Dart insisted firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and pretend glaring at the strange girl across the aisle from him. “An’ tha’s jus’ as disgustin’ as walkin’ ‘round wiv animals on your feet. Stuffin’ ‘em and puttin’ ‘em up on walls for fun. Howd’you feel if someone mounted your head on a wall, eh?” He blinked, and gave her another, longer look, tilting his head even farther to the side as he continued to consider her. Even a fan of the movie couldn’t have come up with all of this so quickly and effortlessly. So, either this was just a crazy coincidence, or-
He didn’t even have the time to finish his thought when she confirmed it. Dart couldn’t help it- he grinned broadly at her, showing off his surprisingly white teeth, especially considering the fact that he really did look like a homeless person. “Howd’you manage to get stuck wiv the most rubbish names?” He shook his head, still smiling. “Andrea-dandrea-dandy. Andy-dee-deeee. Hmmm. Yeah, still completely rubbish. Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t all have fantastically dramatic an’ inspririn’ names, like Valentine for example. Now there’s ‘n excellent name, no mistakin’ it. Course, my name’s even better then tha’. Dart, at you’re service.” He touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and gestured them to her in a mangled sort of salute. “Where the hellave you been, Andre-dandy? S’been a long time since I’ve seen you. Even if y’do look a bit different this time round.” “Matter of opinion,” Andy said definitely. For every face he made, her smile became wider. “I’ve been both-” Quite shortly on the juggling front, as it frankly didn’t pay much and Andy liked having food money. But still. “People are more impressed with a waiter then a juggler, let me tell you.”
An eyebrow rose, mock patronizing. No doubt of it. With every word, it was more and more cemented on who he was. Had to be. “Who said I use real bunnies? Or heck, dead ones. Live ones squeal as you walk and squish.” Her foot came down. Another old biddy turned about, glaring. Andy merely smirked. No, she wasn’t going to play nice. That did little good. After another huff, the woman turned about. “And it’s a good thing animals aren’t sentient here. Sure you’ve got your own things, I’d say are disgusting. Like your shoes. Ratty, much?”
The grin surprised her and was strangely contagious. Mock casualness and less then excitement vanished. Valentine! She twisted completely in her seat, tucking her feat underneath her, not caring if her skirt got all muddy as a result. Her chin rested on her arm as she grinned. “Blame my parents. I do it for most everything.” And she cut off that thought before she let it get too far. It’d lead her to pushing him away but he was Valentine. And he hadn’t run off when she started being a sarcastic bitch as usual. “And Dart?” She snorted, shaking her head. “Nothing romantic about being a sharp pointy thing. Or an action. Cowardly reaction. What’d happen if you were in a fight and I’d yell dart?” An idea came and her grin grew. “Duck’d be little better. And more useful. Could save your name for better situations.” A nod of the head to return the salute before Andy paused. Frack.
“Everywhere, just about. Admittedly, I hadn’t looked for you.” Her expression turned to one of distaste. “I’ve never met another before. Kind of figured I was one of the only ones. Helena showed up more then ten years ago.” Dart’s expression didn’t change from anything beyond disgust and disbelief. “Rubbish!” He insisted to her. “Been jugglin’ for ages now, an’ people are always impressed when I break out the knives. Guess y’haven’t noticed, but people don’t get tha’ same sorta impressed when y’tell ‘em you’re a waiter as opposed ta someone who juggles fire.”
Yet again he made a grossed out face when she mimed crushing a rabbit under her boot. “‘S still disgustin’. Makin’ it look like you are, even if you’re not.” How on earth anyone could stand the concept was a total mystery to him. Wasn’t the idea of a thing supposed to be as bad as the thing itself? “OI!” He pointed his finger at her, looking indignant. “I’ll ‘ave you know tha’ my shoes are ruddy fantastic. Never had a pair a shoes last this long before. They’ve been places, yeah? ‘Sides, means they’ve got character.” As if to make a point, he pulled one of his legs up against him, the heel of his foot resting on the edge of his seat. “An’ if you can’t appreciate that, then tha’s your loss.”
He snorted, his smile falling slightly. “Yeah. Family’s always the best thing ta blame.” That’s what he did. Well, except for the fact that he’d essentially disowned his family years ago. The only family he had that he actually cared about was dead, and he could never blame her for anything. Like Andy, he shoved those thoughts of family away quickly. “Yeah, Dart. An’ for your information, sweetheart, my name is also ruddy fantastic.” He straightened up a little at the barb, eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Cowardly,’ she’d said. There was no denying he could be a coward, but no one liked being called that to their face. Still, aside from that reaction, he acted as though it hadn’t affected him much. “If we was in a fight, I’d probably be busy protectin’ your skinny arse from gettin’ beat. An’ if you yelled Dart, I probably would. … Dart, I mean.” He scowled. “‘N there’ll be none a tha’! M’name’s Dart. Not Duck. Tha’s even worse then your name, it is. M’not some sorta waddlin’ squacker.”
“I am genuinely hurt,” he said, putting one hand over his heart, over dramatizing his expression to look extremely sad. “Been all over the place myself, an’ I always kept an eye out for you.” Dramatics aside, he was actually a little sad to hear that. His traveling had never been fueled by the need to find Helena’s reincarnation, but he really had kept an eye out for her. He just didn’t think it’d actually happen. “I’ve had Valetine for ages now. Since I was eight or summit like that. So tha’s...” He wiggled his fingers, trying to do the math in his head. He fucking hated math. “Twenty-three years now, give or take.” “Respect is not the same as being impressed,” Andy said. Granted, she didn’t tell many people she juggled. It was a hobby, honestly. There’d been an unspoken vow made between her and Helena, back when they still ‘talked’ of no running away to circuses. It was just too weird and...frankly Andy wasn’t of that level.
Same as ever, she thought. “I think you’re-overreacting,” she said lightly. “They’re just shoes, y’know?” She looked distastefully at his feet again. “They’re disgusting. If that’s your definition of fantastic, I hate to see your definition of gross. Beyond comprehension, I bet.” Not allowing that train of thought, she snorted. “Sure. The character of a wet, half-dead rat. Wonder how many germs are on those.”
Andy nodded, glad to let it drop. Because honestly MOST situations people were named by their parents. She was inclined to believe otherwise for Mr. Dart here. Dash. Duck. Smirk spread again. “Bout as fantastic as Patrice, which is fucking awful. Middle name, for the record.” No, she hadn’t lucked out on the name department. Named after two grandmothers who were bitchy old birds when she’d known them, it really wasn’t any wonder Andy shortened her name. “Bet you wouldn’t, ‘sides. Duck it is. You should be thanking me, not complaining. And...I don’t know, you look a little like a sitting one right now.”
“You did?” It slipped out, before Andy could help herself. Damn, she didn’t need to sound so fucking needy. She was used to people not giving a crap about her - and walking out. She was close enough to Helena to not take that wrong. Her. Even if he really was exaggerating there. Andy inspected a broken nail on her right hand. Totally casual and not leading her to do something stupid. “Long time,” she said more evenly. She calculated it then - 31 or so. But then again, she didn’t see why it should matter. Dart shot her a dirty look. It was about as dirty as his shoes, in fact. “Am not,” he insisted to her. “An’ they ain’t jus’ shoes! They keep my feet warm, an’ they keep me from steppin’ in shit. … Lit’rally.” He sniffed with disdain at her own expression as she looked at his shoes. “An’ I already told ya wha’ I think ‘s gross. Rabbit slippers and shit like tha’.” He rolled his eyes at her as he spoke. Honestly, didn’t that girl listen? “An’ how many germs are on you, eh? Ever think ‘bout tha’?”
He let out a low, amused whistle that turned into a chuckle. “Andre-dandy-patry, s’wha’ I aught to call you.” Again he was tempted to roll his eyes at her, but this time he didn’t. At least she hadn’t been saddled with a name like Dante. Ugh. He hated just thinking about his given name. “Betcha I would! An’ I do not look like some sorta waterfowl!” His scowl became pronounced as he glared at her. “I ain’t answerin’ ta that. I won’t. Can’t make me.”
In all honesty, he payed little mind to how eager she sounded about that fact. “Hell yeah, s’a long time. Wha’, you think I’m some lil’ newbie ta all this crazy shit?” He threw his head back and let out a mocking ‘Hahaaaaaa.’ When he lowered his head, though, he was all seriousness again. “Naw. Been at this load a shit for a while now.”
“So, I gotta admit, ‘m feelin’ a bit curious. Whatchu doin’ wiv your life?” Leaning forward a bit, he gave her a hard stare. “Not jugglin’, obviously. So wha’?” “Not much with those holes in there,” Andy shot back. She eyed his shoes skeptically. “Betting you step in shit nine times out of ten there. If you’re actually stepping in it. Y’know, most people would go around shit piles.” A roll of the eyes was necessary there. “Beyond that. And less then on you shit-stomper.” Oh yes, she did go there. Clearly he made a point of it.
And with that addition of a nickname, shit-stomper was staying. Most definitely. “Don’t think so. Kindly stick to Andy and all’s golden.” She glanced about at the glaring people before sighing. She didn’t have the energy for it. Getting up, she moved across the aisle, shoving him on his upper shoulder. “Push over and would too. And yes, you do.” She peered at him. “You’ve got a hint of beak and you will. Wait and see.” If he stuck around. Maybe. Hopefully. Oh well, she had to the end of the bus ride.
“No. Not quite. Just never met anyone else.” She didn’t like what he implied with that and frowned. Wait a moment... “Guess that’s not the case for you. How’d you find ‘em?” Yes, she was going forward with that assumption. She was the only, one of the only, right? Why hadn’t she found them?”
Andy didn’t like that look bit. Frack. People always wanted to know what one was doing with themselves or what their plan was. Her nails needed inspection again. “Not much. Just drifting I guess. Got a work with a commercial place. Fucking shit but you know, it pays when it does. Bit of a world traveller.” That was one way of putting it. Andy had been on the road for years, never really looking back. No college degree and her experience didn’t get her anywhere. Not with her interests these days anyhow. Dart couldn’t resist rolling his eyes right back at her again. Smart-aleck. “Oh, yeah, I jus’ go ‘round steppin’ in shit all the time. ‘Course I try t’avoid it! But sometimes accidents happen, sweetheart.” There was little else he could say to that last statement that would be to his credit, so he shook his head, clucking like a disappointed mother who had listened to her child say something rather idiotic.
Dart let out a mocking ‘pffffft.’ “Like tha’s gonna happen,” he muttered to her with a ever mocking expression. If she wanted to call him names, then sure as hell he’d call her some names right back. That expression dropped the second her hand touched his shoulder. Faster then anyone would have expected from someone who had been moving so lethargically before, he smacked her hand away- harder then was at all necessary- as he slid back into the other seat and away from her. “Don’t.” The previously goofy looking man narrowed his eyes at her, his voice low and dangerous sounding. Normally having someone touch his shoulder didn’t bother him- but it had been too unexpected, and the thought of her going anywhere near touching his arm made him feel like he needed to punch something or throw up. Probably both. He took no notice of the fact that they were still being stared at, and that many people were regarding him with caution and a little bit of fear.
It took him a few moments before he reluctantly started speaking again, though his gaze was still wary and a bit too intense. “Told ya. I travel a lot. Get t’talkin’ wiv folk, an’ after a while, y’start t’pick things up. Notice signs an’ all.” This was only somewhat true. Sometimes he did pick up on it- watching people mutter to themselves or go still while thinking hard, expression changing as often as it would were they having an external conversation. But other times it had been pure accident as he surrounded himself with people who were so wound up on whatever he’d just sold they’d tell each other anything, and secret after well kept secret had come spilling out. He was better at guarding his then most- especially about his past- but Valentine was one that slipped a little more easily.
He leaned back a little further, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his hands against his sides. He examined her again, gnawing on the tip of his tongue as he did so. Hell and heaven knew exactly how little Dart liked to divulge of his own life, so he could understand her own vague story. “So you’re like me then, yeah?” He snorted. “Figures. S’no wonder I never found y’before. Always missin’ each other, I suppose. Ah well.” He gave her shin a light nudge with his toe, his lips curling into the hint of a smirk. “Suppose late’s better then never. Ain’t like y’gotta save the world this time or anythin’. Still. Wouldn’ta minded if y’shoulda up a wee bit sooner.” “Shit stomper,” she said, cheekily. It fit. Andy was a fan of alliteration and it was just offensive enough. And childish. She wasn’t adverse to using the swears she’d been warned not to use in her childhood - the meanings she hadn’t understood then, but now made too clear, wince-worthy stress. Shit stomper. The child in her (alright, teenager) was amused. “I don’t think so. I’m going to have a hard time believing it.”
Andy would have replied, but his expression changed too quickly for her to even remember his words after he said them. She hadn’t meant anything but sliding into his row - just to ignore the old birds hovering about them and make conversation a bit easier. She was in no mood to get a crick in her neck leaning across the aisle. Getting smacked away and given a look of pure resentment wasn’t what she expected. Her earlier, cheeky expression diminished and she pulled back - seated because the bus was bumping along around the turn - but far enough away from him that slipping off the seat was a concern. She didn’t give a crap of those about her or what they were thinking - just the thought of what the heck was going on and was he a liar too? Because he’d tricked her once - or Valentine had tricked Helena, it blurred too much - and she’d only gotten a half-apology at the time. And hadn’t it been a dream? Thoughts rushed too quickly and her head began to ache. And she would not let her eyes itch. Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous...
...she needed a fucking drink.
She didn’t really hear what he said, didn’t care for his answer either. Her lips pressed together, teeth biting into the skin. There was a faint nod, before she surreptitiously glanced at her watch. Nowhere near close enough to home. Or her apartment. Calling it home did feel like stretch. Her house, back in New Hampshire with her parents didn’t feel like home either. Andy forced herself to swallow. Her eyes were not going to betray her now. She was not going to do anything other then just get through the fucking bus ride. The decision was enough to bring herself to reality and look up at him, catching his look.
Great, more judgment. Now from even him. Andy snorted. “Sure. Like you.” Whatever like him was. A weirdo. Shit stomper. That didn’t quite make her feel better, but Andy was all about using words to hurt others. Sticks and stones may break your bones may never hurt you was a lie. Even if his nudge there made her jump - what now? He’d established a moment ago he thought she smelled terrible (which she shouldn’t care about) or something was wrong with her. “And no. Not saving the world. I’m the last person anyone would call. Not like the Mirrorworld exists anyhow.” Bitter, bitter, bitter, and it was only going to make her feel worse. Because she couldn’t, wouldn’t believe that with his reaction then. Dart didn’t feel bad for smacking away her hand- in fact, he rarely felt bad about anything he did. Look out for himself, his needs, his drugs... Everyone and everything else plays second fiddle to that. But there was no denying that he did feel a little bad that his actions had caused her to look so angry at him, if only because she was Helena. They were supposed to be friends! That’s what they did, after all. Or what they were supposed to do. True, he wouldn’t apologize for what he’d done that made her angry; the way he saw it, he’d been well within his rights to do so. However, he could at least try to make her a bit less inclined to look like he’d just punched her grandmother.
“Tha’ s’pure n’total rubbish.” Another, somewhat harder nudge to her leg was delivered. “Y’managed it damn well last time round, didn’tcha?” Pulling his arms away from his torso he put his hands up in front of him, wiggling his fingers and faking a look of fright. “Oh no! Th’world’s endin’! Who should we call? We’ve only got two choices- Hitler, or Andy-dandre-patry!” The hands went down and a serious scowl and deep voice took their place. “Whatchu goin’ on about? Hitler was one screwed up motherfucker. Call Andy! Tha’s a bird wiv experience on savin’ shit from bigger shit that’ll becomin’ non-existent world endin’ shit.” The hands went back up, but this time to his cheeks. “Oh yes, sir, a’course sir! ‘Ow silly a me not ta realize this before!” He leaned against the cool metal of the side of the bus, ignoring the way that it trembled and shook under his back.
“See? You’re not th’las’ person they’d call.” Raising his brows, he offered her the hint of a hopeful smile. He hated it when people had that sour expression on their faces because of him. One of the perks of being a dealer. People loved to see him- if only because he had their drugs. “An’ wha’the hell d’you mean there’s no Mirrorworld? Tha’ is also a load a fuckin’ rubbish. ‘S as real as you ‘n me, sweetheart. Well, s’more as real as you. S’wha you ‘n Helena create, yeah? So if you draw it, s’there.” He moved his fingers together and apart in a mock up of someone talking. “‘Not like th’Mirrorworld exists,’ she says. Pah! Are you always this depressing? Or is it jus’ cause y’don’t wanna let on how excited y’are t’see me again? S’alright. I can take it.” The additional nudge caused another glare sent his way. God, couldn’t he quit it? What was his purpose in this? Paranoia didn’t do anyone any good and Andy had to fight it back. He was just fooling with her, manipulating and - damn it, he was Valentine. If anyone had the potential of being genuine it should have been him. More him then some random stranger. He could have an issue. A bruise there. Something she didn’t know. Right? Maybe? Or was she just making excuses like she’d once had with...
“Hitler? You’re comparing me with Hitler?” Ignoring the fact that Hitler was not the logical completion of that thought and she was responding to Andre-dandre-whatever but that was uncalled for. Seriously? As he went on though, it was difficult to bite back the smile that wanted to spread. No. She wasn’t going to laugh. He’d just fucking smacked her and was confusing her. He wasn’t going to make her laugh. (And even she recognized how childish that was.) “He doesn’t count,” she said, fighting to keep a straight face. “Mainly as he’s dead. And, it’s Hitler.” Yep, definitely bad looks from those old ladies. Apparently they weren’t German. Probably were Jewish. “And second...alright that was second. Point still stands.”
She rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm a bit more securely about the seat. She was not going to slide off onto her ass. No, she wasn’t. Even if the turns were getting worse. “I do draw. Have been even before Helena showed up. It didn’t change it - and unlike her, I draw everywhere. By now you’d think a way would open up. Doesn’t exist, plain and simple.” Mainly because she was positive it was a dream. Which technically made him a figment of her imagination.
Great. “Yes, as a matter a fact, I am,” he told her confidently after ignoring her glares and resiting the urge to roll his eyes again. At this rate they’d just roll right out of his eye sockets and onto the floor, which seemed to him to be both disgusting and inconvenient. But then he spotted that smile she was trying so hard to repress and grinned back at her encouragingly, practically showing off every tooth in his mouth.
“Exactly,” Dart countered. “‘s Hitler! Ain’t nobody worse ‘n Hitler. Therefore, if forced t’choose, jus’ about anyone’d pick you over ‘im. ‘Less you’re a neo-Nazi or summit, but nobody likes them anyways. Point is, you’re not the worst person ‘round, yeah? ‘Sides, I met loadsa people I’d never ask t’save the world.” Leveling his finger at her and shaking it a bit like some sort of old matron, he went on. “An’ you are not one of them, sweetheart. So stop you’re moanin’ and try smilin’! S’like a fucking hearse in ‘ere ‘stead ‘ova reunion.”
He sighed dramatically and leaned his head back, shaking it sadly while he addressed the bus ceiling. “Gimme strength t’deal wiv pessimists. Right,” with a snap he straightened back up, a still looking mildly amused, and also mildly annoyed. “Jus’ cause it hasn’t shown up yet don’t mean it’s never gonna show up. There’s a lotta world and possibilities out there, yeah? Look at us! Here I’ve been, lookin’ for you for years, but I never gave up. An’ look! Ta-da!” Quick jazz hands and wiggling fingers flew though the air with a dramatic flourish. “‘Ere you are! Wha’ was it you mum used t’say? It’ll always be right in fronta your nose, or summit like that.” If his eyes were about to roll outside of his head, hers were nearly ready to slide out. Apparently she’d met her match and companion with sarcasm and easy annoyances. She wished she minded. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, with a heavy sigh. She shifted a bit closer on the seat, holding tight and slumping down. She wanted this over already.
“But he doesn’t count.He’s eviller then evil. Evil Knieval even, minus the stunt issues.” Now that was childish, but the point stood. Andy wasn’t going to be sunk so low as to be compared to him. At all. “He’s like, not even a part of the equation. Adding him in screws everything up. Plus, again, he’s not around anymore. Not a viable option, Mister Duck.” And a frown settled as he went on. “And besides, the point, totally not necessary. Next time a world is about to fall apart because of a clone of myself let me know. I’ll get back to you,” she huffed.
At that, she only gave him a condescending glare. “Trust me. If I could have, I’d have escaped there by now.” She wasn’t sure why - because he’d just smacked her after all - but she dug for her bag. Out came one of her many notebooks before she flipped it open to a random page, littered with lopsides houses, tilting towards an inward point. Bit of messing with gravity in the Mirrorworld, she envisioned. Her ideas of it had changed since Helena’s time around. Little less precise. A little more her. Without relinquishing the hold of it, “My mother this time around’s never said anything of the sort. She’s nothing like Helena’s-” And her throat tightened, but she went on. “And I’ve tried. Never been there, even in my dreams.” “Alright, fine. I would rather... ‘ave you for president then Obama.” Dart looked extremely pleased with himself and his new example to use to prove to Andy that she was hardly the worst viable option for saving the world. “An’ that’s not m’name. Dart. ‘S Dart.” He made a t-t-t-t sound to emphasize the differences. “Come on, ‘s not tha’ hard t’figure out. I mean, yeah, okay, so they start wiv the same let’er. But tha’s an awful big mix up for the rest a it, ain’t it? An’ thanks. Glad t’hear it.”
Dart tilted his head to the side in a considering fashion. To be frank, his flittery mannerisms and dirty attire almost made him look like a bird- a sparrow or something like it- and the constant head tilting certainly wasn’t helping him appear like anything else. For a moment he was confused as she dug through her bag, but his interest was instantly piqued as soon as she showed him the notebook. Reaching out and leaning over the notebook, his fingers traced feather light over the picture as he stared at it. “Well, these things ‘appen.” He made no commentary about how much his own mother was like Valentine’s adoptive mother. ‘Maybe it’d be best if you left home and never came back!’ “An’ she’s still sorta your mum. Helena’s mum, I mean. Since you are ‘er an’ all.” Withdrawing his hand he looked back up at her, still hunched over the drawing. “Whaddyou mean, even in your dreams? It wasn’t a dream t’start with!”
He shook his head. “Well, ‘ave you got the mask? The Mirrormask. Doubt it’d be much use ‘less you’ve picked tha’ up from the Agency.” Andy snorted, sinking lower in her seat. With no care for rudeness, she said, "You're in no position to say that. Unless you're somehow an American with that cockney accent - and for the record, he's fucking useless. People only voted because they went oooooh shiny thing, black president!" Finger quotes were made before she crossed her arm under her chest. "Not to mention, I'm too young."
Each denial only made her more adamant to stick with the nickname. "Dart's perfectly useless. Besides, thought you liked romantic names. How're you sticking with that one?" She gave him a triumphant look. "Answer me that, D-man." She relinquished her hold on the notebook, once it was obvious he wasn't going to wreck it. The thing was a little old, but she'd wanted to look something up before. Her drawings WERE intended to be connected after all.
"I guess," Andy conceded. She'd have rather Helena's then her own. Maybe she wouldn't have blamed....and Andy shut her eyes, forcing that thought out. It was her fault. Her fault. Denying it was useless and- "Yes, it was a dream. Whole thing. How else did it work?" Her snort was forced, her arms recrossed. God, he shouldn't sound like she'd fucked up here. It didn't exist, what the heck was he on?
"No. Why would I? And who the hell is the Agency?"