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Tweak says, "E=mc2"

Andy Gallagher is not the droid you're looking for (brain_ninja) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-07-18 01:33:00

Entry tags:

!complete, andy gallagher, day 16, illyana rasputin, location: carnival

Day Sixteen - Morning
Who: Andy Gallagher and OTA
What: Andy finds his van
Where: In the carnival
When: Day 16; 10am or so
Rating: PG-13 (language maybe)
Status: Complete

After the day he'd had yesterday, Andy slept like a log. His body was tired, his mind was tired, and he was completely and totally drained. He'd awoken that morning with Elliot in his arms and a mouthful of her hair - well, not really, but it was the principal of it; a stiff neck, an aching back, and something jabbing into his side as he rolled away from Elliot to stretch. With an angry, half-awake mutterance, he'd reached underneath himself and extracted the culprit before sitting up. It had felt like a set of keys...because it had been. His keys. Andy's face had fallen into that of a kicked puppy expression; they were messing with him again. Sighing, he'd tucked Elliot's hair behind her ear to get it out of her face and woke her just enough to let her know he was going to head up to the gas station to grab them breakfast and he'd be right back.

The hoodie he'd been wearing was slung over his shoulder as Andy headed up the road toward the carnival that he'd cut through to go the shorter way to the gas station. It was hot as hell, not that he was complaining. It just hadn't registered until he'd gotten out under the cloudless sky where the sun was shining brightly. So brightly, even, that he extracted from the pocket the aviators Sam had given him the morning they'd found the body hanging from the clock tower. Slipping them on, he made his way into the carnival, almost enjoying the feel of his car keys jabbing into his leg from inside his jeans pocket. Almost...because they were still only the keys and that was just mean, he thought.

Just as Andy came around from behind the tea cups ride to cross the street and nab some munchies, he stopped dead in his tracks. No fucking way! "Ohhh! Oh, baby!" he cooed loudly, making a break for it and all but slamming himself up against the warrior princess painted on the side of his van. "Oh shit, Maggie, I missed the hell out of you!"

For a few moments, Andy just stood there, leaned against the van, only barely refraining from actually kissing Maggie, Queen of the Polar Bears (as he'd dubbed her) painted on the side. Finally, realizing all over again that he had the keys, Andy pulled them out of his pocket and moved over, jamming them into the keyhole. Taking a deep breath and thinking to himself, Please God..., he turned the key. The lock popped up with a low thunk and Andy's eyes widened. "Are you serious?! Oh fuck yeah! YES!" he shouted, extracting the keys and pulling the door open, hopping in to settle into the driver's seat and putting the keys into the ignition to try his luck again.

The engine roared to life and Andy's lips parted as he let out a sigh of relief. "...I think I just came," he laughed to himself, running his hands lovingly over the steering wheel and dashboard. The radio was silent and Andy looked over at the display, confused. The current track was over and the two-second silence at the beginning of the next song was counting back. -0:02, -0:01, 0:00---

"Before you slip into unconsciousness,
I'd like to have another kiss.
Another flashing chance at bliss,
Another kiss, another kiss..."

"Shit, I missed you, Jim," Andy said quietly, leaning over the passenger seat and feeling around for his stash. Hell yeah, right where he left it. Suddenly, Andy's eyes grew wide and he threw the door open again, jumping back out and heading around to the back of the van to open that door. The disco ball still hung, the books and blankets and pillows were strewn haphazardly around on the mattress...and then his eyes fell on Moby Dick, still filled appropriately with water. "Nope. Now I just came," he said to himself, snatching up the massive bong and slamming the door shut behind himself again as he made his way back to the driver's seat.

The Doors blared from his speakers as Andy turned back the key to keep from wasting the half tank of gas he still had left in the tank. And Andy?

Smoke filled the van, pouring out the driver's side window he'd rolled down as the telltale sound of bubbles and suction in the base of the bong filled his ears. Shit, he had missed that more than he'd really realized until he heard it again. Between the first couple of hits, he'd scribbled a note in his journal. Fuck the church and fuck those pews. Andy was sleepin' right where he wanted to be. In his own bed, in his own home; in the back of the motherfucking van. Because, the way Andy figured it, he deserved to after yesterday. Hell yeah he did.

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brain_ninja
2009-07-28 04:26 am UTC (link)

The way that Illyana stiffened upon mention of the Yellow-Eyed Man was not lost on Andy. If he hadn't already been convinced that she was one of them, he was convinced now. "Yeah..." he said slowly, drawing the word out as he reached up and scratched the back of his head in a nervous tick. "I'm still kinda trying to wrap my head around that bit. The whole demons are real thing. But, that's what Sam said, and I guess he knows that stuff or whatever," he replied with a shrug and another sheepish grin.

She suddenly looked a lot less like she felt threatened and a lot more like she was curious about him. That was better, he thought. The last thing he wanted was to get his ass handed to him by some girl, especially one that looked barely legal. "Yeah, well..." he said with a smirk. "It's not usually something I wanna talk about, but I figure you'll keep from judging me based on what I've already seen," he replied with a wink.

Illyana crossed her arms and asked him what he could do. With a grin, Andy shifted himself and got to his feet, holding a hand out to her as he nodded toward the van. "Not to be all creepy but I'd rather sit on the mattress in the back than on my own feet on a dirt road if we're gonna talk freak," he joked. "And...I can control minds." He paused and then shook his head, holding up his other hand defensively. "Oh, but don't worry; I don't think it works on other freaks. Well, except the pictures, I can still do those on Sam, so I can probably still do 'em on you, but I promise I won't."

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ex_darkchyld899
2009-07-28 12:51 pm UTC (link)

"Oh, they're real, all right," Illyana said, the bitterness and hurt creeping back into her voice. "Real, and nasty, and...." She cut herself off before she went further in her diatribe. She was afraid if she talked for too long about their 'merits', she'd let something slip that would end up freaking Andy out, and she really, really didn't want to mess up what looked like it could be a decent friendship.

She understood all too well about not wanting to talk about powers, and the consequences of doing so with the wrong sort of people. She remembered Reverend Stryker and his people, and what they'd almost done. "I might end up judging you," she smirked, "but not on that score. Depends on what you do with them. Robbing banks? Definitely not a good use of powers. Taking down bank robbers? Much better option." The smirk turned into a grin. "Unless, of course, the bank's screwing you over, right?" Magneto would definitely not approve of the joke, but his approval didn't really matter here, did it?

Illyana took Andy's hand and let him help her to her feet. "Not creepy, practical," she told him. "Talking about this sort of stuff out in the open isn't the best idea I've ever had." When he said he could control minds, her eyes widened. He was like Shan, then? Possession? But then he said it didn't work on other mutants - freaks - and she forced herself to relax and let him help her into the van. "What do you mean exactly by 'control minds'?" she asked, settling herself down on the mattress. "Like, possession, or suggestion, or...?"

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brain_ninja
2009-07-28 05:00 pm UTC (link)

Nodding, Andy set his jaw as Illyana's voice changed, sounding upset and bitter when she agreed that demons were real. He was still trying to absorb that; he'd seen one with his own eyes and still he was having trouble letting it really sink in. Demons were not only real, he reminded himself, but they were the reason he was the way he was. They were the reason Webber had been the way he was. Demons made Webber into a killer; made Andy into a freak. Andy said nothing in response to Illyana's quick mood change.

His smile returned, though, when she teased that she wouldn't judge him because of his power, but because of what he did with it. "How about getting free coffee and sending away debt collectors?" he asked, smirking back at her. "Is that somewhere in the middle?" He didn't want to offer up that he'd used it to save Tracy's life; to save Martha's. He didn't want to offer up that he'd used it to help provide food for the people in this place or that he'd insinuated he would use it to protect rations for Sam. None of those things were things that he was proud of, because none of them had mattered, in the end.

Pulling Illyana to her feet, Andy then let go of her hand and climbed into the back of his van, laying back and lacing his hands behind his head, staring up at the disco ball. "Well, try to keep the 'practical' part in mind once you see," he joked. He knew that the back of his van looked like a love nest. Once upon a time, that had been what it was meant to be, even if it hadn't ever come to fruition. Andy had just been too lazy to change it and had gotten used to it; even comfortable with it. He didn't see any reason to change now since it had looked like this for years, now.

"Possession? Like the Exorcist you mean? Nah. I mean, like, suggestion, yeah. If I want you - not you, but you know what I mean? - to jump up and down, you will. If I want your car, you'll give it to me," he explained. If I want you to kill yourself, you will, was the thought that crept into his mind against his will and he refused to vocalize. Doing so would make it real and even if he would never do it, just saying it would make him feel too connected to Webber for his own taste.

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