Ex Troubles
I can't get him out of my HEAD.
When I dream, I usually have more than one dream, and while the plot typically makes very little sense, the characters and themes at play are something that have been on my mind. And Tony is on my mind.
I'd thought I was doing well. I rarely thought of him, except as a passing thought - anytime I hear a song that sounds ANYTHING like Jim Morrison, I try to tell the song it IS the Doors, and try to sing along with it. If it isn't, I get frustrated at the song - damnit, I'm trying to listen to that song, and I'm imagining Tony singing along to it. Otherwise it's random passing - usually in regards to pirates, rogues, renfaire, otaku, or internet geek - that, yeah, my ex was into that stuff, and it goes on.
But for the last couple days, I can't get him out of my HEAD.
Now, when I'm quiet and pondering (usually something curious like thinking over a segment of fiction I've read, looking over a plot for a story I'm writing, hypothetical conversations, designing a costume I don't own, or the mysteries of the universe), I keep finding myself thinking on Tony and Chris. Considering my ex-lovers, and particularly the good things about them. The things I miss and will never forget.
It's hard to remind myself why it didn't work out. Why it would never work out. And how it's best that I move on.
And yet, while I consciously try, my mind won't let go of it, and I can tell, because they're still in my dreams.
Chris seems to be more of a background character - always was, curiously enough; he even brought Tony back into play when we were dating - but Tony seemes to be suddenly more popular now that he's gone. I think the fact that, near the end, he was more of a pain in the arse than anything else made him something I didn't want to deal with, let alone ponder in my own free time. Everytime I did, I just got aggravated at his laziness and refusal to cooperate with "the plan" and get things finished so he could come back and we could be together. Why he had to be so miserable and self-loathing and bitter towards everyone around him, I couldn't understand - well, some of it I could. It's rough being in yor parents' shadow. But he was just so ridiculously depressed, it annoyed me, to put it lightly. And instead of doing something about it, he played the Mad Hatter, with his perpetual pity party. I know he just needed some company, and I did my best, but he was too draining.
The first dream I had of him (I think after we broke up - I'm not sure, but I think it was), completely ignoring any I had of him when we were together (which was few, mind you - I don't dream terribly often, unless, as I said, something's been on my mind) - I had dreamt that I was in a lovely gown (my status as lady paramour in renfaire and the Christmas Ball I'd just been to with him for my birthday mere weeks before we officially called it off - that still ticks me off) and waiting in a hotel lobby of sorts, awaiting the Couch family. Apparently, they were royalty (foreign royalty, mind - why they came to this country and Prince Tony desired me of all the creatures in the world, I hadn't quite figured out - I also wonder if I wasn't a Madame de Pompadour character in this situation - seeing as we'd just broken up after a ball, my head was thinking in quite this way - if you've never dated southern aristocracy, you have no idea what it's like to date royalty. I'd think it's something similar. All flash and pomp and circumstance, and yet they still can't pay the bills. Boggles the mind).
Anyway. So, there I am, unaccompanied, mind, and nervous. I'm alone and haven't seen the Prince in far too long, yet I'm supposed to see him when he comes in. There's flash and servants, and I see the Queen come in, a small, polite smile on her face, and she walks right in to wherever it is she planned on going, not even seeing me. Shortly thereafter, Bert comes in, looking very handsome in his uniform, decorated with a very Russian style of pins and awards and etc. His hair is short, about chin length, wavy, and he has his typical beard and moustache - not the one for Balthus, but the "decent" one, I'd say - makes sense, as the prince is traipsying around the country. She'd hardly let him look like his hippy self. Mind, he doesn't seem to mind too much - as Jennifer is in tow, dressed in a beautiful gown that, while simpler than mine, looks finer made, a beautiful emerald. She gets to travel with them, I know in my dream, and I admit, I'm a little jealous. Still, they both greet me with great joy, and I take their affections and try to respond in kind, but I'm still nervous - this is the first time I've seen my lover in his royal dress, and I'm nervous about my public debut. Bert reassures me, telling me he's coming, and Jennifer just smiles, asking me how excited I am about all this, isn't it great? And that she's happy I could join them - at the ball, Jen had already been the year before, and I indeed had been suitably jealous. When I went, my dress was suitably atrocious (kind of a freshman thing - you always have a hideous dress the first year), but, I was there, and that's what counted. Yes, I'd been jealous, and nervous, and all that. But the two slip into an elevator, chattering away happily, and I wait once more for my prince.
When he does show up, he is decidedly looking for me. This makes me beam in anticipation as I get up and step forward so he can see me. He's wearing something more similar to his tux from the ball, here, though it's lightly decorated with a couple pieces, and he has a sword at his side. I tell myself he dressed down to lessen the culture shock for me, but if the whole family was anywhere near as considerate, I'm sure I wouldn't be a shaking bundle of nerves, as I am. He comes to me, grinning, and takes my hands, kisses me on the forehead, and beckons me off.
I have no idea where we go from there. I believe it skipped to the next dream. This may have been before the break up, but it was after the ball, I know, and as I said, we were rocky for a while.
I've had another one recently, which I don't quite recall, but it was while I was dating Chris, and I found it curious that it wasn't my boyfriend who was in it, but my ex. I'd mentioned it to him - we had a weird thing of mentioning exes fairly often. Apparently that's not a good thing. But, I think I was as much of a rebound for him as he was for me, and I'd like to think that I helped him out as much as I think he helped me. I certainly learned alot about myself through him.
Yeah... odd how Tony gets, like, two pages, and Chris is a tiny paragraph. That bothers me a bit, but I suppose it's about focus. Chris was not only a short relationship, but it also never really built up into something terribly important. He was very self-contained, didn't give me much to work with. still, just an observation. I'm getting off track.
So. Earlier this week, I was going through Brandy's renfaire pics, doing like I do, and I got a real shocker - Tony, sitting there amongst the musicians at the beginning of album, like it was nothing serious. Honestly, in the frakking background. A secondary character. Not even tagged. >.> Part of me wonders if I would have been able to see these pictures had he been tagged, or if he was tagged, it just wasn't letting me see. My delightful secondhand faire high immediately gave way to an obsession to see if there were any more of him - a shred of evidence that the man I'd loved was still alive, and doing things that he'd done when we were together. That things hadn't changed. I don't know why I wanted to know that - if he hadn't changed as a person, I suppose I feel justified that what I did was right (and gods, do I hope it was - he's been the best man I've known so far. Most of it was him screwing up, and I realy wish I had the hope that he could fix it and come back to me, but common sense tells me he probably won't, love. He'll just move on to the next girl), but also a bit of wanting him to be happy, even if it's not with me. Chris said something about how that means I do still love him (as I'd done something similar to Chris - something about sour grapes) and want him to be happy, even if I'm not in the picture. I guess I'm just that kind of sappy person. :P Lot of good it does me.
Anyway. I think anyone who read my last post figured that out. So, now I've got Drago running in my head. I'm back in the jubilant girlfriend/RumRunners fangirl/There's my baby being awesome! mode. A bit of a problem, as I'm not his girlfriend, he's not my baby, and this particular RumRunner, last time I checked, hates my guts. Bit of an issue.
So, you know how I only make sense on occasion. What do I do? I go find Cassidy.
Oh, she was there, alright. Standing next to him in pubsing. Wearing black and green, just like me. Mind, her skirt was green (shiny, too!) while the shirt was black, but she had a black corset on. Yes, he learned his lesson from last time, and got her a decent corset the first time around. :P Lucky bitch. She doesn't get to hear him complain about how the wenches were complaining at him that his wench doesn't have a proper bloody corset. Man, those wenches caused him so much drama. I'm happy for (and jealous of) her that she gets to show up for faire, have a lovely, grand old time, and then go back home - WITH her pirate - and not have to hear about the wenches drama. Bitter? No, I'm not bitter. Not at all. Just jealous. Best time of his life, he had as Capt. Drago, and I only got to HEAR about it for the most part. Two pirate invasion weekends - One I was only there for Saturday, and the second I still missed Monday (Irony: if I go myself, I'll go all three days, but I won't be able to touch him. How fucked up is that?), and for Dragoncon, we were both working Security for the most part. Honestly, he was more of my ride than my boyfriend that weekend. I wouldn't be surprised if he cheated on me while I was even in the flipping convention center! Not that he had any good reason to - I was plenty game, if we only had the crash space. Bastard.
:P Yeah, see, I can be bitter and jealous and angry and all that, but what does my subconscious do?
Two nights ago, I have a series of dreams, and one of them, sandwiched in the midst of them, is one where I'm on the phone with Tony - we always used to get in arguments because he didn't think I talked to him often enough on the phone. See, he was all far away and needed constant reminding that I still loved him and wasn't cheating on him (clingy much? Also, paranoid.) and so I could distract him from his "hellhole" existence. He once told me it was like he was shut up in a box, dark and alone, except for me, which was a small candle for him. Well, you keep yelling at the candle, it might flicker out with one good gust of wind. Finally the candle got fed up with the abuse and left. Get yourself a new damn candle. I'd recommend an upgrade. Take better care of her and she might work better. And take better damn care of yourself. Living in a box is unhealthy. Been trying to get him out of that for literally years.
...Off track again. Well, so much for nostalgia. It's about gone now, isn't it?
I think that's what these dreams are reminding me, now that I'm looking them over. Anyway, so this phone call. He's calling to tell me that his phone number is going to get shut off in a couple days. I'm sitting there, wondering why I care because he really doesn't call all that often (although, apparently we're still in touch...? I get the impression I don't call him. Sounds an awful lot like the end of our relationship!), and I remind the idiot that he has my number, he can always call me back when he gets a new phone.
So, metaphor. Rocky relationship, covered that. Using the phone, even - clever use of repeated symbol, there. End is coming, and I'm not that worried about it. If he wants to fix his own damn issues, I'm here when he does. Mind, the fact that he DOESN'T have my number is a slight mistake, as he doesn't - I changed it after the douschebag GAVE IT TO THE INTERNET, and I most certainly haven't called anyone in that family or connected to it who could get it - he DOES know where I live (well... not even that, anymore. He knows where my parents live) and roughly where I can be found. Sort of. I guess I'm making that difficult. But if he really wanted to find me, he could do it. It's not that hard. Hell, he has my Facebook. If he gets off his paranoid arse and unblocks me, we could be peachy keen. There, he has my number. Not to mention the livejournal(s), and C4, among other things.
I mean, honestly. If he wasn't an absolute asshole to me, I could forgive him to the point where I'd definitely still talk to him, but there's no way I could get into a relationship with him. Yes, don't think I haven't fantasized a remedial meeting at Nekocon where he begs forgiveness, and I pretend to forgive for a fun-filled weekend, only to dump his butt back on the curb where it belongs. Yes, it's cruel, but I'm single. A girl needs options.
So... there's that. But, last night's was a bit weirder...
So, the set up is this. We're at some party/shinding/thing, and a lot of Tony's crew is involved - Brian, in particular, I remember being there, but also Bert and Tony himself. So, whatever the hell is going on, we're either going to a different party afterwards, or getting something from the store, or whatever, but it's a bit of a drive, so we don't send someone alone. Bert, I remember watching leaving the house first, excited for the drive. Not too sure why, but we pack up the car - actually, it's a minivan, my bad. Not sure who's driving, but it's not important. Bert is sitting up in the passenger seat, and Tony's sitting on the left in the middle seat. As I'm getting into the car, I poke Bert on the shoulder, grinning and jokingly ask him, "So, Bert, did you enjoy going to RenFaire?" in my friendly, ooh-I'm-so-jealous-you-went-without-me!-Tell-me-how-it-was-so-I-can-enjoy-it-secondhand! kind of way. He grins, naturally excited. "Did I?" he responds, amused at the ridiculous question. Next thing I know, I'm in the back seat next to Bert, who is happily recounting the tale. His hair is similar to above, but his shirt is definitely green - his renfaire shirt, if I remember right. Even Tony's in a simple Drago costume. Although he's quiet as he watches us, I see that he wants to jump in and help out the conversation, but there appears to be a kind of truce where we don't talk to one another. It almost amuses me that he's keeping a civil tongue, and almost even regrets it, and wishes it were different. I'm mostly amused that he's in this situation, as he's such an ass, and I wonder why my mind finds it better to make him sorry for what he's done. I doubt he is, in reality, of if he is, he does a damn fool way of showing it.
So anyway. Bert is telling me about faire, and I ask about Cassidy. "So, was Cassidy there?" I know she was, and I want to hear what she has to say about it. Tony looks uncomfortable and shifts in his seat as he looks away. Bert tells me that yes, but she's actually "Keh-shaun-dra", though it's spelt the same, which makes no sense to him, and definitely makes no sense to me. There was a little bit more to the conversation, but even though I just woke up and it's semi-fresh in my mind (after all this ranting), I can't remember the rest of it.
So... I guess my mind is mostly curious as to what will happen when I meet up with Tony again. I have no idea when it will happen, but I kind of want to initiate it. >.> I suppose I might could do that. Not a wise idea, but I could. :P But only if I want to cause some trouble, eh?
^-^ I don't know. I just might. Put a hide-caller-id on it, and dial him up. I still have his 800 number around here. *ponders* I'll do it after work. See how well it goes. -- Hell, I have his real number. But the 800 number is probably more up to date. :P We'll see what happens. (I'm actually kind of impressed I still remember it. That means I'll have it FOREVER. Damn. lol!)
>.> Yeah, I'm an idiot. Like I said, I only make sense some of the time.
~Lady K
When I dream, I usually have more than one dream, and while the plot typically makes very little sense, the characters and themes at play are something that have been on my mind. And Tony is on my mind.
I'd thought I was doing well. I rarely thought of him, except as a passing thought - anytime I hear a song that sounds ANYTHING like Jim Morrison, I try to tell the song it IS the Doors, and try to sing along with it. If it isn't, I get frustrated at the song - damnit, I'm trying to listen to that song, and I'm imagining Tony singing along to it. Otherwise it's random passing - usually in regards to pirates, rogues, renfaire, otaku, or internet geek - that, yeah, my ex was into that stuff, and it goes on.
But for the last couple days, I can't get him out of my HEAD.
Now, when I'm quiet and pondering (usually something curious like thinking over a segment of fiction I've read, looking over a plot for a story I'm writing, hypothetical conversations, designing a costume I don't own, or the mysteries of the universe), I keep finding myself thinking on Tony and Chris. Considering my ex-lovers, and particularly the good things about them. The things I miss and will never forget.
It's hard to remind myself why it didn't work out. Why it would never work out. And how it's best that I move on.
And yet, while I consciously try, my mind won't let go of it, and I can tell, because they're still in my dreams.
Chris seems to be more of a background character - always was, curiously enough; he even brought Tony back into play when we were dating - but Tony seemes to be suddenly more popular now that he's gone. I think the fact that, near the end, he was more of a pain in the arse than anything else made him something I didn't want to deal with, let alone ponder in my own free time. Everytime I did, I just got aggravated at his laziness and refusal to cooperate with "the plan" and get things finished so he could come back and we could be together. Why he had to be so miserable and self-loathing and bitter towards everyone around him, I couldn't understand - well, some of it I could. It's rough being in yor parents' shadow. But he was just so ridiculously depressed, it annoyed me, to put it lightly. And instead of doing something about it, he played the Mad Hatter, with his perpetual pity party. I know he just needed some company, and I did my best, but he was too draining.
The first dream I had of him (I think after we broke up - I'm not sure, but I think it was), completely ignoring any I had of him when we were together (which was few, mind you - I don't dream terribly often, unless, as I said, something's been on my mind) - I had dreamt that I was in a lovely gown (my status as lady paramour in renfaire and the Christmas Ball I'd just been to with him for my birthday mere weeks before we officially called it off - that still ticks me off) and waiting in a hotel lobby of sorts, awaiting the Couch family. Apparently, they were royalty (foreign royalty, mind - why they came to this country and Prince Tony desired me of all the creatures in the world, I hadn't quite figured out - I also wonder if I wasn't a Madame de Pompadour character in this situation - seeing as we'd just broken up after a ball, my head was thinking in quite this way - if you've never dated southern aristocracy, you have no idea what it's like to date royalty. I'd think it's something similar. All flash and pomp and circumstance, and yet they still can't pay the bills. Boggles the mind).
Anyway. So, there I am, unaccompanied, mind, and nervous. I'm alone and haven't seen the Prince in far too long, yet I'm supposed to see him when he comes in. There's flash and servants, and I see the Queen come in, a small, polite smile on her face, and she walks right in to wherever it is she planned on going, not even seeing me. Shortly thereafter, Bert comes in, looking very handsome in his uniform, decorated with a very Russian style of pins and awards and etc. His hair is short, about chin length, wavy, and he has his typical beard and moustache - not the one for Balthus, but the "decent" one, I'd say - makes sense, as the prince is traipsying around the country. She'd hardly let him look like his hippy self. Mind, he doesn't seem to mind too much - as Jennifer is in tow, dressed in a beautiful gown that, while simpler than mine, looks finer made, a beautiful emerald. She gets to travel with them, I know in my dream, and I admit, I'm a little jealous. Still, they both greet me with great joy, and I take their affections and try to respond in kind, but I'm still nervous - this is the first time I've seen my lover in his royal dress, and I'm nervous about my public debut. Bert reassures me, telling me he's coming, and Jennifer just smiles, asking me how excited I am about all this, isn't it great? And that she's happy I could join them - at the ball, Jen had already been the year before, and I indeed had been suitably jealous. When I went, my dress was suitably atrocious (kind of a freshman thing - you always have a hideous dress the first year), but, I was there, and that's what counted. Yes, I'd been jealous, and nervous, and all that. But the two slip into an elevator, chattering away happily, and I wait once more for my prince.
When he does show up, he is decidedly looking for me. This makes me beam in anticipation as I get up and step forward so he can see me. He's wearing something more similar to his tux from the ball, here, though it's lightly decorated with a couple pieces, and he has a sword at his side. I tell myself he dressed down to lessen the culture shock for me, but if the whole family was anywhere near as considerate, I'm sure I wouldn't be a shaking bundle of nerves, as I am. He comes to me, grinning, and takes my hands, kisses me on the forehead, and beckons me off.
I have no idea where we go from there. I believe it skipped to the next dream. This may have been before the break up, but it was after the ball, I know, and as I said, we were rocky for a while.
I've had another one recently, which I don't quite recall, but it was while I was dating Chris, and I found it curious that it wasn't my boyfriend who was in it, but my ex. I'd mentioned it to him - we had a weird thing of mentioning exes fairly often. Apparently that's not a good thing. But, I think I was as much of a rebound for him as he was for me, and I'd like to think that I helped him out as much as I think he helped me. I certainly learned alot about myself through him.
Yeah... odd how Tony gets, like, two pages, and Chris is a tiny paragraph. That bothers me a bit, but I suppose it's about focus. Chris was not only a short relationship, but it also never really built up into something terribly important. He was very self-contained, didn't give me much to work with. still, just an observation. I'm getting off track.
So. Earlier this week, I was going through Brandy's renfaire pics, doing like I do, and I got a real shocker - Tony, sitting there amongst the musicians at the beginning of album, like it was nothing serious. Honestly, in the frakking background. A secondary character. Not even tagged. >.> Part of me wonders if I would have been able to see these pictures had he been tagged, or if he was tagged, it just wasn't letting me see. My delightful secondhand faire high immediately gave way to an obsession to see if there were any more of him - a shred of evidence that the man I'd loved was still alive, and doing things that he'd done when we were together. That things hadn't changed. I don't know why I wanted to know that - if he hadn't changed as a person, I suppose I feel justified that what I did was right (and gods, do I hope it was - he's been the best man I've known so far. Most of it was him screwing up, and I realy wish I had the hope that he could fix it and come back to me, but common sense tells me he probably won't, love. He'll just move on to the next girl), but also a bit of wanting him to be happy, even if it's not with me. Chris said something about how that means I do still love him (as I'd done something similar to Chris - something about sour grapes) and want him to be happy, even if I'm not in the picture. I guess I'm just that kind of sappy person. :P Lot of good it does me.
Anyway. I think anyone who read my last post figured that out. So, now I've got Drago running in my head. I'm back in the jubilant girlfriend/RumRunners fangirl/There's my baby being awesome! mode. A bit of a problem, as I'm not his girlfriend, he's not my baby, and this particular RumRunner, last time I checked, hates my guts. Bit of an issue.
So, you know how I only make sense on occasion. What do I do? I go find Cassidy.
Oh, she was there, alright. Standing next to him in pubsing. Wearing black and green, just like me. Mind, her skirt was green (shiny, too!) while the shirt was black, but she had a black corset on. Yes, he learned his lesson from last time, and got her a decent corset the first time around. :P Lucky bitch. She doesn't get to hear him complain about how the wenches were complaining at him that his wench doesn't have a proper bloody corset. Man, those wenches caused him so much drama. I'm happy for (and jealous of) her that she gets to show up for faire, have a lovely, grand old time, and then go back home - WITH her pirate - and not have to hear about the wenches drama. Bitter? No, I'm not bitter. Not at all. Just jealous. Best time of his life, he had as Capt. Drago, and I only got to HEAR about it for the most part. Two pirate invasion weekends - One I was only there for Saturday, and the second I still missed Monday (Irony: if I go myself, I'll go all three days, but I won't be able to touch him. How fucked up is that?), and for Dragoncon, we were both working Security for the most part. Honestly, he was more of my ride than my boyfriend that weekend. I wouldn't be surprised if he cheated on me while I was even in the flipping convention center! Not that he had any good reason to - I was plenty game, if we only had the crash space. Bastard.
:P Yeah, see, I can be bitter and jealous and angry and all that, but what does my subconscious do?
Two nights ago, I have a series of dreams, and one of them, sandwiched in the midst of them, is one where I'm on the phone with Tony - we always used to get in arguments because he didn't think I talked to him often enough on the phone. See, he was all far away and needed constant reminding that I still loved him and wasn't cheating on him (clingy much? Also, paranoid.) and so I could distract him from his "hellhole" existence. He once told me it was like he was shut up in a box, dark and alone, except for me, which was a small candle for him. Well, you keep yelling at the candle, it might flicker out with one good gust of wind. Finally the candle got fed up with the abuse and left. Get yourself a new damn candle. I'd recommend an upgrade. Take better care of her and she might work better. And take better damn care of yourself. Living in a box is unhealthy. Been trying to get him out of that for literally years.
...Off track again. Well, so much for nostalgia. It's about gone now, isn't it?
I think that's what these dreams are reminding me, now that I'm looking them over. Anyway, so this phone call. He's calling to tell me that his phone number is going to get shut off in a couple days. I'm sitting there, wondering why I care because he really doesn't call all that often (although, apparently we're still in touch...? I get the impression I don't call him. Sounds an awful lot like the end of our relationship!), and I remind the idiot that he has my number, he can always call me back when he gets a new phone.
So, metaphor. Rocky relationship, covered that. Using the phone, even - clever use of repeated symbol, there. End is coming, and I'm not that worried about it. If he wants to fix his own damn issues, I'm here when he does. Mind, the fact that he DOESN'T have my number is a slight mistake, as he doesn't - I changed it after the douschebag GAVE IT TO THE INTERNET, and I most certainly haven't called anyone in that family or connected to it who could get it - he DOES know where I live (well... not even that, anymore. He knows where my parents live) and roughly where I can be found. Sort of. I guess I'm making that difficult. But if he really wanted to find me, he could do it. It's not that hard. Hell, he has my Facebook. If he gets off his paranoid arse and unblocks me, we could be peachy keen. There, he has my number. Not to mention the livejournal(s), and C4, among other things.
I mean, honestly. If he wasn't an absolute asshole to me, I could forgive him to the point where I'd definitely still talk to him, but there's no way I could get into a relationship with him. Yes, don't think I haven't fantasized a remedial meeting at Nekocon where he begs forgiveness, and I pretend to forgive for a fun-filled weekend, only to dump his butt back on the curb where it belongs. Yes, it's cruel, but I'm single. A girl needs options.
So... there's that. But, last night's was a bit weirder...
So, the set up is this. We're at some party/shinding/thing, and a lot of Tony's crew is involved - Brian, in particular, I remember being there, but also Bert and Tony himself. So, whatever the hell is going on, we're either going to a different party afterwards, or getting something from the store, or whatever, but it's a bit of a drive, so we don't send someone alone. Bert, I remember watching leaving the house first, excited for the drive. Not too sure why, but we pack up the car - actually, it's a minivan, my bad. Not sure who's driving, but it's not important. Bert is sitting up in the passenger seat, and Tony's sitting on the left in the middle seat. As I'm getting into the car, I poke Bert on the shoulder, grinning and jokingly ask him, "So, Bert, did you enjoy going to RenFaire?" in my friendly, ooh-I'm-so-jealous-you-went-without-me!-Tell-me-how-it-was-so-I-can-enjoy-it-secondhand! kind of way. He grins, naturally excited. "Did I?" he responds, amused at the ridiculous question. Next thing I know, I'm in the back seat next to Bert, who is happily recounting the tale. His hair is similar to above, but his shirt is definitely green - his renfaire shirt, if I remember right. Even Tony's in a simple Drago costume. Although he's quiet as he watches us, I see that he wants to jump in and help out the conversation, but there appears to be a kind of truce where we don't talk to one another. It almost amuses me that he's keeping a civil tongue, and almost even regrets it, and wishes it were different. I'm mostly amused that he's in this situation, as he's such an ass, and I wonder why my mind finds it better to make him sorry for what he's done. I doubt he is, in reality, of if he is, he does a damn fool way of showing it.
So anyway. Bert is telling me about faire, and I ask about Cassidy. "So, was Cassidy there?" I know she was, and I want to hear what she has to say about it. Tony looks uncomfortable and shifts in his seat as he looks away. Bert tells me that yes, but she's actually "Keh-shaun-dra", though it's spelt the same, which makes no sense to him, and definitely makes no sense to me. There was a little bit more to the conversation, but even though I just woke up and it's semi-fresh in my mind (after all this ranting), I can't remember the rest of it.
So... I guess my mind is mostly curious as to what will happen when I meet up with Tony again. I have no idea when it will happen, but I kind of want to initiate it. >.> I suppose I might could do that. Not a wise idea, but I could. :P But only if I want to cause some trouble, eh?
^-^ I don't know. I just might. Put a hide-caller-id on it, and dial him up. I still have his 800 number around here. *ponders* I'll do it after work. See how well it goes. -- Hell, I have his real number. But the 800 number is probably more up to date. :P We'll see what happens. (I'm actually kind of impressed I still remember it. That means I'll have it FOREVER. Damn. lol!)
>.> Yeah, I'm an idiot. Like I said, I only make sense some of the time.
~Lady K