It wasn't like Andy had nothing better to do. Really, he did. He could be pushing that kid Puck's buttons trying to light a fire under his ass so that Andy himself could get stoned. He could've been reading Poe or Vonnegut because, as it turned out, the women here were apparently well-read and willing to share. He could've even been practicing mind control on punk kids on the street or animals, but he had been feeling lazy about that lately.
Really, Andy was just bored and had a serious case of cabin fever. It'd been a couple of weeks since he'd been outside in the area — the trip to Guthrie had been a bust, so he hadn't stuck around very long — other than to hit up a local Taco Bell or McDonalds.
It wasn't so much that Andy was hungry right then, but it gave him an excuse to get off his lazy ass and out into the night. Night was probably safer, anyway; most people went to sleep. Andy came out to play. He felt a little like a vampire and had since high school over it but it didn't really bother him in the grand scheme. The cool kids were the ones who stayed up late; the chill adults with the same sorts of lives as the one that he led — excluding the whole coming back to life and having the power of mind control thing. The other wonder of the night was there was never a line to stand in at the store. Andy hated standing in line and he hated the itch he got to mind control people into letting him cut even more than the line itself.
Parking his newly stolen — well, really it had been an unwitting gift, but who was counting? — van, Andy got out, stretched and yawned and then, absently scratching the back of his neck, started toward the entrance. He paused briefly to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
There was a woman heading inside that looked a hell of a lot like Tracy from the back and he had to remind himself that just because she was a short brunette did not mean she was Tracy. The likelihood of Tracy being in Kansas was low and even if she was, it wasn't like she'd ever talk to him again. He'd tried for a few months to talk to her after the whole thing with Webber had gone down. He'd tried to explain and all he'd gotten in return was more work than it was worth to brain-ninja the cops off his ass when she called saying he was stalking her. He had been, a little, but he just wanted her to know that he never meant to hurt her and he never, ever would use it again on her; that the only reason he had was to save her life because he'd wanted her to continue to be a part of his. It hadn't worked out that way and, he supposed, in retrospect he hadn't really expected it to. Didn't change the fact that it blew, but still. He missed her...a lot.
After composing himself and shaking thoughts of Tracy out of his head — which was harder than it should have been since it had been five years for her, but only a few months for him — he headed inside and made a beeline straight for the freezer. What would he do for a Klondike bar right now? Fuckin' just about anything, because they were awesome.