you could 'cause you can so you do {Andy}

[Mumble]

There was usually a minute or two...it could have been seconds, really...just before Mumble woke up, when all his thoughts took a moment to sort themselves out. It was just a matter of figuring out the really basic things, like where he was (usually in his room), what sort of mood he was in, and reminding himself of what it was that he'd been dreading or looking forward to in the coming day.

Today, he woke up with a kind of...lightness in his heart, like something he'd been worried about had been taken away and replaced with something he should be glad about. It took him all of ten seconds to remember what it was.

Andy. The train, and his really stupid dance confession of his feelings for her, and the whole drunken coming clean with each other thing. And she knew, she knew now, why he'd been so awful to her, and it seemed like she was on her way to forgiving him.

Which brought him to the next issue, the one that always gave him that sick feeling in his stomach...the issue of the situation he'd gotten himself into with Redd. He was all but ready to just give back the whole singing voice, tell her he didn't want it, that she could keep it if she'd just stay away from Andy. But...she hadn't really threatened Andy yet, beyond that first incident that had resulted in Andy being covered with really brightly coloured bandaids. He rested the back of his hand on his forehead, contemplating the situation, then rolled over and picked up his phone. He held down the five key, Andrina's number in his speed-dial, then held the phone to his ear and waited for her to answer.

[Andrina]

Andrina wasn't dreaming about anything in particular, just lots of flashes of colors and images that she didn't have time to really focus on before it was gone and replaced by something new. That was probably some way, shape, or form of her mind sleeping of the excess amount of alcohol she had consumed the night before. She was completely passed out until the sound of a familiar song invaded her dreams. Her brain somehow knew it didn't belong there and allowed it to slowly pull her into reality until she could consciously realized that it was her phone causing this disruption. She opened her eyes and allowed her mind to collect itself for a moment, but just about when she expected her head to start throbbing, something else happened.

It actually did throb. She could feel the beat of her heart pulsing through her temples and it hurt, but it didn't feel...bad. She instead experienced that sort of stomach flipping sensation that causing to laugh involuntarily. She felt giggles bubbling up from her lungs and she just lay there for a moment or two laughing. Whether it was because she just woke up, or because of this odd sort of hangover, or maybe something else was at work here, Andy couldn't bring her thoughts to question any of it. She was happy and she may have molested Mumble last night, but that was fine, everything was fine. She had a feeling that nothing would ever be not fine ever again. She was already unsure as to what 'not fine' would feel like.

She was dizzy and her vision was still slightly blurred with sleep, but she managed to grab her phone and flip it open without checking the screen for the callers name. Hello? she said brightly, struggling to contain her bad case of the giggles.

[Mumble]

She sounded as happy as he felt. Right there, coming down from that post-sleep comfy almost-high feeling, he felt like he could have grinned his face in half. There was such a tremendous feeling of relief, knowing that she didn't hate him, knowing that he wasn't having to sacrifice their relationship anymore...but there was still the lingering worry that something awful was going to happen to her. He needed to talk to her about that...needed to reiterate the things he probably hadn't gotten across very clearly when he'd been drunk the night before.

"Morning," he said, and he was pretty sure the smile on his face could have gone right through the phone. "How're you feeling...?" He wondered if he ought to put some kind of term of endearment on there...were they official? Was she technically his girlfriend, or should he say something to solidify that link? Just...go with it, he told himself.

"I was thinking we should get together and like...talk or something, can I take you out for lunch? Or dinner? Just...you know, a date."

He wanted to add something else, but it could have gotten long and complicated from there. A date, like, a thing where we both actually acknowledge our feelings for each other without deliberately misleading each other or doing anything to hurt anyone, or ourselves.

[Andrina]

The reconnection of his voice brought on another strange bought of emotions that when layered on top of her dizzy post drunken state left her nearly delirious. She covered the receiver of her cell so he wouldn't her her chocking on laughter, before she realized that she had nothing to worry about? What did it matter if he heard her absurd, manic laughter? It didn't matter, because nothing was ever going to bring her down again. She felt weightless, held up by the pure joy of actually having Mumble within her reach, with the idea that he did really care for her. She hadn't imagined his feelings, she was right all along and now he was calling her and wishing her a good morning. She could easily chalk this up as the reason behind her being nearly sick with happiness....but there was something else too.

She sat up, but quickly found herself fallen back onto her pillow as she lost her balance. Somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny tiny voice was whispering this was wrong. There should be some awkwardness, some nerves, after all, there still was a lot unsaid between her and Mumble, where did she stand now in his eyes exactly? Were they together now? And this terrible pounding headache, oh it hurt so bad, but it left her giggling instead of groaning. Something was wrong with her, but she couldn't bring herself to be even mildly concerned, more than that, even the idea of such an emotion seemed foreign to the small blonde. How funny.

Naturally, when he asked how she was feeling, it should have been hard to say, but Andy just blurted out exactly what she was feeling, whether he really wanted to know or not made little difference to her. My head hurts really baaad she spoke, laughter lining her words, until she dropped to a near whisper, a dangerous edge to her voice. I feel good. She decided, really good, great, beyond great, borderline nutty. She sighed humorously as he continued until his words really took hold. A DATE?! she shouted, jumping up so fast that she banged her head on the shelf above her bed, which, of course, brought on another round of laughter. She could see spots, but that was fine, right? A date sounded wonderful, but she kept getting this itchy feeling, the one that she get when she wants to do something wildly dangerous and fun. She wanted to feel that adrenaline rush pulsing through her veins again. She couldn't be sure what his idea of a date was so so only managed okay! Where?! she realized just then where she wanted to go most, where she hadn't been in the longest of times OH! I KNOW, THE POOL! she cheered excitedly.

[Mumble]

His head was buzzing slightly, but Mumble had done enough drinking in his life that he'd remembered to force himself to drink about three bottles of water before going to sleep the night before. He couldn't be sure; these things were never certain until he'd been awake for an hour or so, but he didn't think he was going to be doing any throwing up. Still, the dull ache in the back of his skull was distracting enough that he wondered if he'd missed something. What was so funny? Was she just as relieved as he was, and just happened to be showing it in a drastically different way? Usually when Andy laughed, he found himself compelled to smile, even if only slightly, because she had one of those infectious laughs that had that effect on people (if "people" were Mumble, anyway). But there was something different, something weird. Like she was laughing just to laugh, not because she was genuinely happy or amused by something.

"The...pool?" he repeated, baffled. Who went to the pool on a lunch date? There weren't even fish in the pool. He frowned, and rubbed at his temples with the thumb and middle finger of one hand. "Well...I guess, I mean, if that's what you want to do, I was thinking maybe we could talk or something." You know, in a place where people are on solid land, and maybe facing each other. Maybe she felt more comfortable in the water, though. She had been a mermaid before, after all, so maybe she liked to hold all her serious conversations in or near water.

"What time would be good for you?" he asked. "Don't want to drag you out if you're still hung over. Can I bring you some aspirin or crackers or something?" Had she just told him she was in pain and feeling really good at the same time? That was...interesting. Kind of kinky, if he'd been inclined to think that way at the moment. "I have Gatorade, if you want some of that. Key to getting rid of a hangover is to keep yourself hydrated, you know."

That statement of information sent him into a moment of reminiscence on the night he'd met her. She'd been drinking for...well, what looked like her first time, and she'd been all dizzy and jaded and now, that they'd come this far from that night...He'd just been looking for entertainment, which had turned into trying to earn her trust, and here he was, in...

"Love." he whispered, maybe not even loud enough for her to hear it through the phone, just loud enough to test the word, see how it tasted, determine how easy it was to get out.

[Andrina]

Yesssss! she hissed joyfully when he questioned her pool idea, clearly intoxicated between her dizzy happiness and the strange affect this hangover was having on her. Andrina was really a light weight. For one thing, she wasn't exactly encouraged to get drunk back home one account that she was a Princess and up on land she wasn't even legal yet, not that she was exactly aware of that....or cared. The point is, she hadn't even known what alcohol really was until she arrived here. The first time she tasted a drink she was in the presence of some guy named 'Kay' and he told her that they were called 'spinnies,' she still thinks that. Kay, like Okay....what kind of a name was that anyway? She wished she knew where he was. She'd have an endless amount of fun making cheesy jokes. Andy laughed at this vision until Mumble's words called her back into the current conversation.

I love talking she said vaguely, not really paying her full attention to his words. She was busy trying to stand up...and failing. She tried to swing her feet over the edge and dart upright, only to find that her legs were caught up in her sheets and she was on the floor before she could catch herself. She gasped slightly, but held tightly onto the phone, sending another bought full of laughter through the receiver. She rolled over and held her stomach, which was still doing flips. She though maybe she might vomit, but she was laughing too hard to be bothered. Mumble asked another question and she weaved her answer into one of those delirious type of sighs that made your voice sound an octave higher than usual. Wheneveeerr, I'm fiiiiinne, everything's fiiiiinnee. She began to laugh again.

She stopped listening again, marveling in her light feeling. It was like she was never really touching the ground, despite the fact that there she was, tangled in her sheets lying on the floor. Her breathing quickened slightly with her fluttering heart and a sudden overwhelming urge forced her upward and racing out the door the moment she was sure she heard him mutter something over the phone. something that would have caught her attention no matter how delirious, or how quiet he said it. She couldn't quite grasp it, like the full effect that the word should have had didn't dawn on her. It wasn't like he'd gone right out and said "I love you" or anything. He just said love, but that was enough to jerk her wild state into a whole new level of crazy.

She rand down the hall, clothed only in her underwear and her shirt from the night before, a tangled mess of hair whipping behind her. She had all but forgotten she was talking on the phone, though it was still open as she danced around dreamily shouting the words to an Oklahoma! song OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MOOOORNING, OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAAAAY~ she raced across campus, not bothered by the looks she was receiving. I'VE A BEAUTIFUL FEEELIIINNGG~ she stumbled into the male dormitories and eventually crashed into Mumble's room. EVERYTHING'S GOING MY WAAAY~ She threw her hands up into the air, huffing from her recent run and smiling a smile that was bordering on madness.


LYRICS.Oklahoma! Oh What a Beautiful Morning
NOTES.*facepalm*

[Mumble]

He had the strangest feeling that she wasn't really listening to him. She was responding to the things he said, but it was in this really weird way, as if she was just...multi-tasking or something, answering often enough to participate in the conversation, but without actual interest. She loved talking? Really? That was all she was going to say about things? Maybe she was...doing her nails, or watching a show on the T.V. at the same times as she was talking to him.

He heard her coming long before she burst into his room - he heard her singing in the hall, and he heard the split-second delayed duplicate of the lyrics through his telephone, which he lowered slowly, staring at the door as her voice got closer. How was she...how had she gotten to the boys' dorm, and why was she-

Whoa, she wasn't wearing much.

"Andy!" he blurted, instinctively drawing his blankets up around himself in spite of the fact that she was the one racing around campus half dressed. Not for the first time in the history of their relationship, he found himself completely without words - not because he didn't have anything he could say (he had plenty of questions) but because he couldn't figure out what question to ask first. What had gotten into her? What was she doing in his room? Why was she so set on going to the pool? Why had she not bothered to put pants on before running around the school? Why was she singing some song at the top of her lungs when she'd just been telling him that she was hung over? He didn't even know where to start.

"What's going on with you?" he asked, finally settling on what he thought was one of the safer questions he could have asked. "Are you all right?" He kicked the covers off of himself, and grabbed a t-shirt from where he'd left it hanging over his desk chair the night before. Pulling it over his head, he reached over and yanked open the mini fridge by his bookshelf, grabbing a bottle of purple gatorade out of it and handing it to her. "Here. You should drink this. It might like...clear your head, make you feel a little better."

[Andrina]

She held her pose until her hangover got the best of her and she suddenly swoon and had to step forward to catch herself. Supriiiissse she said, giggling and trying to focus herself again on Mumble as her body struggled to keep its balance. after a few stumbles and a moment of dangerous swaying she realize he'd shouted her name and she took in the fact that he was covering himself up with his sheets. What a funny thing to do! She laughed again and quickly decided that she liked him not wearing a lot of clothes. She liked not wearing a lot of clothes herself. It was fun! She began to hum a tune as he revealed himself from under the covers.

Andrina eye lids fluttered, the first of many ticks to develop during her time as a chipper psychopath. Her stomach tightened in a way that it might if she was embarrassed. She could feel her cheeks flush with hot blood, but she didn't feel....bad. She didn't feel embarrassed, though her body reacted on that impulse. she simply stared at him for a moment, dressed only in his boxers, her mind moving passed the emotions she was forbidden to feel until they settled on one that was purely positive. It flooded her whole being, somehow amplified in her state of half sanity. She felt warm and wild and he was so good looking, even with his T shirt now on. Her eyes looked him up and down over and over again, a single emotion overwhelming her mind. Lust.

She reached out for the bottle of purple gatorade and let her arm fall to her side with it in her hand, but her eyes never left his. Her mind vaguely noted that purple was her favorite color and she was excited my this, but her attention was elsewhere. Her rather blank expression was morphed by a sly smiled and a dangerous light in her eyes. She began to hum that tune again, the one that had come into her mind earlier. I lead the revolution...in my bedroom... she sang softly, carefully taking steps toward him and I set all the zippers free... she let her eyes fall from his and onto her hand that had reached up to trail along his shoulder. She smiled again and looked up, closer, closer still. we said, no more war no more clothes, give me peace she giggled slightly, breathing onto his lips before finishing her sensual tune in a voice both low and strong oh kiss me.


LYRICS.Panic! at the Disco - Hurricane
NOTES. oh God.

[Mumble]

She was still drunk, wasn't she? That was the only explanation he could come up with. She was still drunk or had been drinking again that morning and was totally out of her mind or something. He had never seen her act like this. Come to think of it, she hadn't even acted like this the first time he'd met her, and she'd been drunk then, too. What was she doing with her eyelashes? It was like she was trying to be flirtatious, but she was taking it to such an extreme level that it almost seemed like she had something in her eyes she was furiously trying to blink out.

And what in the heck was she singing? Something about zippers and revolutions, and just...what, no. There would be no setting free of zippers here, primarily because he wasn't wearing the sort of pants that had a zipper. But even if he had been, he wasn't going to....with her...like this...just...no. Not when it had taken him so long to realize that he loved her, not when he had put her through as much pain as he had, there wasn't a chance in the world that he was going to take advantage of whatever bizarre condition she was in. Hadn't he committed enough wrongs that he was going to have to pay for, without adding that to the top of the list?

"Ohh-kay, Andy, let's just..." He put up his hands almost defensively, catching her by the shoulders as she zoomed in on him. "If I kiss you, will you just...sit down for a minute? What's gotten into you? Are you all right?" He tried to guide her towards the desk chair on the other side of the room, his mind working a mile a minute trying to determine what she could possibly be thinking. Maybe she was actually like...mentally...not good. Maybe the alcohol and the emotional stress and the stuff he'd put her through had finally taken a toll on her and now she was actually starting to crack under the stress of it all. "We're gonna talk, remember? We can go to the pool, and talk."

[Andrina]

She returned to humming when his hands held her shoulders to halt her approach, but she moved her free hand that had been resting on his bicep up to his face. She ran her fingers through his hair, stumbling in the direction he lead her and hardly paying the slightest attention to the words tumbling from his lips. What lovely lips they were, she'd like to kiss those lips, but he was holding her too far away. She figured this was the time where she could feel some sort of disappointment or irritation, she didn't get what she wanted, but nothing came. Oh well. There at least he was offering her a compromise, a kiss for a talk, or something like that. Her mind was tuned so that Kiss rang clearly than any of the other words. Yesss she hissed, repeatedly toying with his hair. I'm fiiine she said, though her manic grin and wobbly tendencies would imply otherwise. They stopped moving for a moment upon reaching the chair and her sloshing mind had time to settle long enough for her to capture a clear image of his face.

Her eyes did that thing again, that furious fluttering combined with a tiny twitch of her head. He was concerned for her, worried about her, that wasn't right. People shouldn't...worry...more specifically, Mumble shouldn't worry. Or wasn't that right? Whats 'worry' again? Her face fell blank for a few moments, brain dead until a positive emotion could be found. She could only function with positive emotion so it was either that, or not functioning at all. She was gone until he mentioned the pool and this lit up something in her mind I love the pool! she cheered happily, smiling as if her moment of nothingness had never happened. She remembered that her one hand was still stroking his hair, his face. She looked down and remember neither of them were wearing pants. Her stomach twisted, she laughed then leaned her cheek against his hand and began to hum again.

[Mumble]

Mumble had never been the kind of guy so driven by morals that he'd turn down a girl who was obviously hitting on him. He was experienced enough to know that was what was going on here...what was so bizarre was who it was coming from and the manner in which it was being offered. If she'd been this easy the night they'd met, chances were he would have taken her back to his place, had a fabulous night, then probably tried to avoid her for weeks afterward until she got the idea that he wasn't looking for a relationship. That was, of course, before he'd realized how much he really did want to hang onto the relationship they had.

He didn't want her to regret him. He didn't want her to wake up in the morning and feel like he'd taken advantage of her when she was in...whatever condition this was. So as much as there was a distinct physical desire to give her the kiss she seemed to want so badly, there was enough sensibility left in him to realise that if she meant it - if she really meant it, she'd also be willing to kiss him or whatever else she had in mind some other time, too.

"Yeah, the pool is great." By this time, his enthusiasm had dwindled in light of his recent and growing realization that she wasn't at all herself. Guin, why did these things keep happening to him? Just when he thought he had things halfway worked out, something went wrong again. He couldn't help wondering what it was that had driven her back to drinking, though. Hadn't they cleared the air the night before? Hadn't they worked out most of the stuff that should be making her want to be drunk?

"Andy...what do you remember from last night?"

[Andrina]

mmhmmm she purred softly as he agreed with her pool notion. Pools were great. Great for swimming and she loved swimming. They were great for singing too. It had been a real long time since she sang underwater, but she couldn't bring herself to remember at the moment. It was like, she new the answer was there, but it was just out of reach. She suddenly pictured her mind as a hall of doors, each containing positive or negative memories or some combination of the two. She watched as doors slammed shut as she passed, the only ones remaining assessable were those that made her feel good. And that was just fine. Everything's fine. Everything's better than fine! She was happy and looking at Mumble she thought of something else they could do in the pool.

She realized her face was burning and her eyes swiveled about in their sockets, blurry vision and her tampered mind preventing her from focusing on any one thing in particular. She felt pretty sick actually, her stomach turned in a fashion that might warn any sane person to, at the very least, lay down. She was too busy running the fingers of one hand up and down his arm, humming a tune that was now mostly of her creation. She let her hand trail up to his head again, delicately playing with his hair until she lost interest in that and let her finger trail down his face. This was more childlike than her previous lustful actions. That could be because lust was singularly the most overwhelming emotion in this moment. No, this was far closer to love. Her finger trailed along his jaw line until his lips obstructed the way and he spoke before she could fully comprehend how much she'd like to kiss those lips.

Her wild eyes fluttered to meet his, a million and one images of the night previous flashing through her mind's eye. Between her intoxication from last night and so many moments that were too painful for her chipper mind to recall, there was hardly anything left to salvage. Her expression fell blake for the second time in their meeting then, suddenly, a rush of such extreme pain washed over her that she was gone from the world for a few seconds before resurfacing and realizing that she was on the ground. That was....funny. She giggled, blinked a few times, then blurted the image her mind had finally deemed fit for use. You danced! she said proudly, beaming up at him. She loved dancing, she loved when Mumble danced especially. Dancing was fun.

Something was warm on the back of her head, warm a sticky and...red she noted once she pulled her hand away from the spot she felt her skull hit the back of the chair. She looked at it for a long moment, blank faced, then slowly turned her head up to Mumble and said brightly What a pretty color!

[Mumble]

Yeah, this had gone beyond drunk. He had seen her drunk. She was silly. She didn't have very good balance. She made up words, and she maybe got a little violent.

This was more like she was on drugs. Really trippy ones that were making her think everything was great, when in fact, she was acting completely bizarre and thoroughly freaking out her sort-of boyfriend. She remembered that he had danced. That was the only thing she remembered!? Out of all the completely soul-baring conversation they'd plowed through, out of the agony they had inflicted on each other, all she remembered was that he had danced?

The blood thing was really the last straw. She was obviously on crack.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. No matter what he did, no matter how he tried to fix whatever situation he got into, something horrible or ridiculous happened to screw it up. It happened time and time again, and it was leaving him with the most horrible feeling that regardless of his own actions, he just couldn't win. If he didn't tell her how he felt, she went around getting drunk to make herself feel better about her broken heart. If he did tell her the truth, she went out and obviously partook of some controlled substance, probably something illegal, and came back acting like a lunatic.

What exactly was he supposed to do here? How was he supposed to judge what the right course of action was when every single path he took, every last thing he tried, led to something that seemed even worse than the last thing he'd tried? The harder he worked at fixing things, the more broken and irreparable they became.

"Andy," he said, trying very hard to maintain his patience. "Andy, come on. Get up. We're taking you to the nurse." He reached down and grabbed her by the wrist. "For Guin's sake, get up, please. What are you, high? This isn't funny."

[Andrina]

She stared at her hand, watching the deep red liquid reflect the light like some kind of watery ruby. She could feel her heartbeat pulsing in her ears making the rest of the world sound muffled and strange. She could hear Mumble saying something now, but her eyes fixated on the blood on her fingers and she was too entranced to pay any attention as to what he was saying. She twisted her wrist slightly to direct a drop of blood falling from her finger to head for her lap. It was cold on her bare leg, not like it had been the moment she wiped it from the back of her head, and it made a misshapen dot like she'd contracted some strain of leprosy. She smiled at it fondly and watched another drop fall in the same spot to make a new and even more beautiful shape. She was just about to try and swirl it in attempts to make some kind of morbid finger paint flower when Mumble grabbed her wrists.

Her head jerked up to meet his eyes full of impossible emotions. Pain, fear, worry, frustration, irritation; these being the things she saw there and the things she knew full well that she shouldn't want him to feel. She could see that he was upset and knew that, therefore, she should be upset too, that how this worked. If Mumble was troubled, she was troubled; if Mumble was frustrated with her, then she naturally felt some frustration too. Only she didn't. She didn't feel anything except maybe the lingering desire to sleep with him. Everything was rushing, speeding through her head, this even more being violent than the last given that the emotions they should have invoked where strong and where meant to be original for this situation. She wasn't trying to remember past hurtful moments, she was meant to be experiencing one right now. He spoke again and his voice seemed to trigger some sort of alarm in her head. Her mind had reached a point in which it needed to do something in order to stop the feelings she was forbidden from and so signaled another crushing wave of torment.

She blinked a few times then, without warning or will, a spine chilling screech escaped her lips. She contorted in pain for a moment and then, just like it had never happened she opened her eyes, focused on her loves beautiful face and smiled.

[Mumble]

Um. Was she about to paint pictures on her skin with her own blood? Along with the tweak of nausea that accompanied that thought, Mumble felt a cold, encroaching sense of dread. Maybe...maybe he'd waited too long, and the emotional trauma he'd put her through had finally just been too much. She was actually out of her mind, and it was probably one hundred percent his fault for being such a tool. How was he supposed to live with that?

"Andy, please." He hardly had time to get that out before she was making the most unholy, unnatural sound he had ever heard from a human being. It was like someone was torturing her or something, inflicting some awful pain on her that she couldn't possibly endure without letting out that ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream.

He instinctively dropped her wrists and clapped his hands over his ears, but by the time he did, she had already stopped and was grinning back up at him like nothing had happened. He stared at her, like he was seeing some bizarre, twisted creature his girlfriend had just morphed into, then dropped his hands, grabbing her wrist again.

"Stop it," he said, worry and frustration clear in his voice. "Andy, let's go. We'll just go to the nurse. They'll give you some happy pills or something." Or, you know, sedate you, so you can't bash open your liver to get the perfect shade of bile for a drawing on my bedroom wall.