Holy schneikies! Backlogged logs!
1 April 2007 -- Alternate Genre Day
Zombie Apocalypse part one!
Zombie Apocalypse part two!
3 April 2007:
The beat pattern of Andre's cane against Beckah's door is different than usual tonight. It's far more complex than the standard three-beat pattern -- obviously an excerpt from a piece in addition to an announcement of presence. Yet for this upbeat signal, he looks a little gray around the edges as he waits for a response from Beckah.
The sound of cane on door is different than hands, and even with the little pattern used, Beckah recognizes it fairly instantly. Up from her couch she goes and over to the door. She opens it up with a smile of anticipation on her face at knowing it is Andre on the other side. Oddly, she opens the door in her tank-top, without any attempt at hiding behind it to keep her body from being seen, "Hey!" she calls immediately, eager.
Andre blinks in surprise at Beckah's eager tone, though he can't help but smile through his grayness at her demeanor. "He-ey!" he responds, slipping into the room. "You're sounding better!"
"I'm trying," she notes. She closes the door behind him and heads back toward the couch. "What's going on?" Beck asks.
Andre squints briefly, then shrugs. "Well, the trying /sounds/ like it's working, at least!" He follows Beckah toward the couch, still using the cane but not gripping it or pressing it down so heavily as before. "Not much. Rehearsals and stuff, trying not to think about the 8.1 and tsunami on the news, pretty usual." His tone remains even through this, though his expression briefly sours on the description of recent seismic mayhem. "What's been up with you?"
Beckah looks up at him as he approaches the couch. "Quakes and stuff really bug you, huh?" There is unhidden concern in her tone. She offers her healthy left arm up toward him, as a sort of a combination of a welcome to the couch and an offer of comfort at her asking that question. "I've just been hanging around the house, had a couple of friends come visit. No big things, really."
"They do when people die in them, yeah," Andre explains as he sits and takes up Beckah's offer of an arm to lean on. "Know there's nothing practical I can do, but I guess those bug me more than, like, all those tornadoes last week because I can do just a /little/, you know?" Completely oblivious to the depths of Beckah's lie about insignificance of visitors, Andre flips to that subject with, "Anyone I know? And hopefully not anyone that caused more screaming?"
Her smile turns gentle toward Andre as she gives his hand a squeeze. "You know, there's no reason to feel guilty or upset because you weren't there to try to stop it Andre. It isn't like you're a superhero. Just a great guy." Becks lifts his hand to kiss the back of it gently along with her compliment. "Nah, no one you know. A couple of friends from work, making sure I'm doing okay."
Andre reaches his other hand over to squeeze Beckah's squeezing hand right back. "I know, I know. Really not practical, but it just gets to me a little. The people dying thing, not the not being able to stop it thing." He bobs his head, though the motion is interrupted by the kiss on his hand. He flushes slightly, though his own mouth curls upward to accompany the change of color. After a few seconds of silent blushing, he notes, "That job seems more and more awesome every time you mention it. People checking you're ok...that's pretty above and beyond the call of duty!"
"Yeah. I've met a lot of really cool people lately," Beckah says. Cool, of course, is a good way to describe Dr. Erik Lensherr and Emma Frost. She swallows a bit, as this line of thinking leads her to her next statement. "Andre? Do you want to go out tomorrow?" Her cast is still in place, and will be for more weeks, which would make wearing her coat impossible.
It takes Andre a little while to catch on to certain things. "Of course I'd like to," he responds, some of the red fading away as the width of his smile increases. "Do we want to do Thai again, or--" Pause. Blink. Squint. Scratch of chin. "Waait. How are you going to hide your cast? Did you figure out some ingenious thing?"
"I was thinking about having a random break of the rules and going and getting fish and chips. I'm treating myself, I think. Kind of an indulgence, you know?" Beckah looks at Andre as he scratches his chin and she takes a little moment before admitting, "I'm not going to hide it."
Andre is not the type of person that would object to fish and chips. He is, however, the type who does not elect to discuss fish and chips over major personal decisions. "You're not?" Andre's jaw unhinges a little and his brows raise; there is, however, nothing critical within this expression of surprise. "But that's...I mean. You, just a few months ago...that's a big change. But, uh, a breakthrough, /I/ think." His surprise turns to a smile, and he turns his torso to give Beckah a loose hug. "Congratulations?"
Beckah laughs and hugs Andre back with two out of three working arms. "Well, it's like this. I can either get over it and start living my life, or I can stay out of work for a month or two, until my arm is all healed up. I'm losing a lot of money not working, and I could be missing chances at bigger, better things." She takes in a deep breath and adds, "One of my friends was telling me, that if I get big enough, it won't matter that I'm a mutant. Noteriety works the same way as annonymity."
As Beckah hugs back, Andre's hug tightens. "I'm just...so glad to hear that! Because really, even in December or January...seemed like pretty much /everything/ was on hold, so that you can make this decision..." His grin shows teeth. "I'm dating one of the bravest women in New York!" He takes a deep breath as well, pointing out, "You show them that Vivaldi and you'll be big enough right away, I'm telling you."
Beckah laughs at Andre's enthusiasm. It is certainly helping steel her decision. "You know it might be kind of dangerous, right? I mean, we're going to get stared at and stuff, no matter what." She glances down at herself, "I have four arms."
"If anyone tries anything, I'll hit them with my cane." Andre's expression is hardly grim and vengeful, but it does not twitch with laughter and his tone is not particularly joking. "Seriously, that's /you/, and I will /never/ be ashamed to be seen with you. And besides, there are surely restaurants around town that are more open to mutants than others, aside from...erm." Andre nearly stumbles on the name of a building no longer existent, and bites his lower lip before continuing. "Well, that was coffee anyway. I mean actual restaurants."
"If I am going to break my record and eat meat, even if fish doesn't really count as meat, we're going to A Salt and Battery. I'm not going to hunt down some mutie-joint." Beckah is firm about this, even letting a bit of her old faux-hatred show up. "I'm going to live my life like normal. If I'm not hiding, I'm not hiding."
"A Salt and Battery?" Andre snorts after repeating the name. "Man. With that name...yeah, we're going there." He nods and grins, though the expression fades to a more serious one again with Beckah's resoluteness. "As long as you're not hiding, I'm with you. And you couldn't hide behind me if you wanted to. Too short."
Beckah leans toward Andre, so that her shoulder presses lightly against him. "I've got to grow up and let go of the coat sometime. I can't live my entire life in it, you know?" She smiles to him, "I have the support of great friends, I have a great job, and I have a great boyfriend. Now's the time to do it."
Andre leans into Beckah's shoulder with a nod, smiling as she describes how well her life's going, then blushing a little again at her assessment of him. He sits with this expression for a few silent moments before it evolves into a smirk. "No, you can't live your whole life in it," he agrees. "It'd start to smell pretty bad." Here is where it would be wise to duck preemptively against flying pillows, but he continues to grin in place.
"You know, I'm going to shove that thing in your face the next time you're asleep. Nothin' like the smell of leather that is kind of a little burned." Beckah gives a little grin that is meant to be incredibly theatening.
Andre acts duly threatened! Meaning that he grins right back, though leaning a couple of inches away from Beckah. Whether this is to get away from the predatory threat or to show his grin better is anyone's guess. "I'm sure it's lovely..."
Beckah laughs and yanks Andre back over toward her by his hand, which she still has her grasp on. "You won't be escaping from me, Dr. San Andreas." Her mood is certainly better than it has been lately. "So how are rehearsals and stuff going? You've been all busy lately."
"Gack!" says Andre as he is yanked back. "Curses, foiled again!" He flumps his back against the couch, then leans on Beckah again, obviously frustrated with his capture as he gives a contented little sigh. "Things're going pretty well. I'm still not sure if I get the big snare solo in the Mahler in May, but hey. I can play at all, and we're playing good repertoire, so I'm not really complaining!"
"Want me to go in and rough 'em up?" She offers this with a playful clench of her lower right fist. "I'll destroy them." Beck seems to be back to her usual form, if the geeky laughter over her threat is any indication.
"If they're all destroyed, there is no orchestra left and there will be no concert for me to play a solo in!" Andre protests, eyes wide and jaw gaping in mock horror.
Nodding her head, Beckah lets out a dramatic, but playful sigh. "I guess I can let them live another day then." She wiggles her bare toes a little, looking down at her feet. There is a weird flash of guilt in her expression, brows pulling together and the corners of her mouth pulling down. "Hey Andre?"
Andre nods at Beckah's decision to let the orchestra live, attempting to one up her dramatic sigh with an exaggerated breath of relief. Beckah's expression at the second remark, though, pulls Andre's own into the realm of concern; his brows raise and his mouth also slants down. "Yeah? You ok?"
"Yeah. I'm good" She decides. Whatever it was is pushed down firmly and Beckah returns to simply leaning against Andre. "So what are we going to do tomorrow? Just go eat fishies? We should make an adventure out of it."
Andre maintains his concerned expression for a moment longer, then gives a brief jerk of a shrug as Beckah leans on him. He considers the question, pressing his lips together before deciding, in his best Brain voice, "We should try to take over the world."
"Yeah, but where are we going to find rubber pants our size?" Beckah replies automatically. There isn't even a split-second of thought before she is blurting that one out in reply.
It's fortunate that the standard reply to such a statement is to not reply at all or to change the subject. Brain must never be witty back to Pinky! In this case, Andre first snorts, then breaks into a persistent giggle.
Beckah lets out a laugh at Andre's giggling, leaning more firmly in to hug him. "Man, what would I do if I didn't have someone who watches every bit as many weird cartoons as I do?" She chuckles happily. "Oh. Hey. Have you heard from Kathryn any? I haven't seen her since right after that screaming thing."
"You'd probably make someone watch cartoons with you anyway," Andre points out. "Convert them to Animania!" He continues to giggle around the words and through Beckah's hug, though he manages to cut it out in order to answer the question. "Not in about a week. You saw her right after the Lucy thing?"
"Yeah, I think so. Unless I'm going crazy and all of the damn weirdness in my life is all jumbling up in my head." Beckah shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders, "Kind of worried about her, though. I really do think the Sanctuary thing fucked with her head real bad."
Andre drops by Beckah's apartment to spaz about an earthquake in the south Pacific, and gets cheered up by Beckah's resolve to Be Herself, despite anyone staring.
Cut short because my connection is a jerkface.
6 April 2007:
It is dinner hour, and so the flood of late-afternoon shoppers have abated. This is certainly a welcome thing in the close confines of the Electronics Boutique, where it is all too evident if another shopper has bathed in cologne. Or as is sometimes the case, failed to bathe at all any time within the last geological age. Behind the counter, two employees are casually discussing World of Warcraft. More pointedly, which is more likely to give it up, Night Elves or Blood Elves?
Attention still mostly fixed on the shelf containing PC games, Elliott shakes her head slightly, gaze flicking upwards in a brief eyeroll. Her gaze lights on the object of her search, finally. New Oblivion expansion! Remarkably, it is in stock. Less remarkably, there seems to be only one copy. She reaches for the tantalizing shiny.
Classical musicians have a reputation for being snooty elitists with lives consisting of pure high culture and no mingling with the riffraff. Whoever came up with this reputation, however, has not dealt with many classical musicians. Sometimes, classical musicians just want to kick back and kill zombies on their laptop. For this reason, Andre Harrison, professional orchestral percussionist, browses the edge of Macintosh games section of the store, right where it borders the wider selection of PC games. He leans lightly on a cane as he considers the selection with the kind of careful eye one might reserve for the score of a Beethoven symphony.
Also reaching for the precious software is Kitty Pryde, whose hand reaches the glossy cardboard box at just about the same moment as the other girl's. She turns her head, now noticing Elliott's presence beside her. "Guess we have to fight to the death now, huh?" she says in good humour.
"It's the only solution," Elliott replies gravely, though the dark eyes looking up (though not -quite- so far up as she is used to) at Kitty glint with amusement. "Pistols at dawn, do you think? Or an all out sword duel right here in the mall?" Her lips press together briefly, an expression that tries for thoughtful and doesn't quite hit. "We'd need seconds, of course."
Though he initially continues his browsing of the lamentably small Mac section, Andre's attention catches on the wording of the two women standing nearby. His first reaction is merely to give a breathy laugh to himself, but as the plot thickens, his eyes and then his whole head turn to regard the two, consideration of games halting in the process.
"Pistols, definitely. Don't need mall security breaking up a perfectly reasonable duel," Kitty reasons. She draws her hand away from the box- she's fairly certain Elliott was a fraction of a second quicker, and she doubts she has a real live holodeck (sort of) back home to play with if she doesn't get the games she wants.
"Point." Elliott ponders a moment, before her eyes light with sudden mischief. "You know, if we were dressed as pirates as we dueled through the hall, they might just think it's a piece of performance art and maintain distance for their own sanity..."
The discussion has drawn the attention of the store clerks as well. They look over, anyway.
Certain words tend to latch on Andre's attention even more than random silliness does. 'Performance' is one of them. On that utterance, the percussionist turns in his place, using his cane as a pivot point, until he faces Elliott and Kitty directly. "Hey, that'd /totally/ pass for performance art. Pretty easily. I've seen performance art that's just...way the heck weirder, to the point of unrecognizable. But pirate duels? Very good kind of installation." His tone is genuinely enthusiastic, not at all patronizing. He looks from Elliott to Kitty as he speaks, his attention lingering longer on the latter.
Kitty grins. "You know, I actually /have/ pirate gear," she tells the two of them, just as her gaze rests on Andre. "Hey. You. I know you. I- um. Yeah. I know you." The first rule about superhero club- you don't talk about superhero club. "You can go ahead and take the game," she then adds to Elliott. "My dueling skills aren't exactly up to speed." Total lie. But she's scrawny enough that she doesn't /look/ like much of a fighter.
Elliott laughs. "Don't worry, I haven't held a sword since drama club in the tenth grade, and -that- was made of plastic." She winks, and reaches the extra inch to pull the game down. Damned tall folk and their insistance on putting things up high! "Thanks," she adds, a little uncertain - frivolous though she might seem, she is not entirely oblivious. There are undercurrents to the conversation that are baffling to an outsider. She shifts slightly, bags rustling.
Andre's eyes open wider at Kitty's phrase of recognition, and his head bobs slowly in response. "You know...yeah! I, uh, /thought/ so too," the quality of his voice indicates rather more certainty than a mere thought, "but I wasn't quite sure if I should, ah, say something here..." His lips press together in a briefly more serious expression, but such a thing can only last so long when pirates are also present in the conversation. "I have no pirate things or duel experience," he confesses, smiling again. "Though the cane handle could be a hook if I stuck it up my jacket sleeve. Even though I'd probably fall then."
Kitty looks down at the cane, as if /just/ noticing it. She had made note of it earlier, but commenting on such a thing without him mentioning it first would be /rude/. "Ouch, what happened?" she asks, sounding genuinely concerned. No fair roughing up her rescue when she's not around to play hero some more!
"You could be security," Elliott offers kindly. "Or press, maybe. Bring people to see the crazy pirate women. Like a sideshow." She cuts off the babbling abruptly, head canting to one side in a mannerism not unlike that of a curious puppy.
Andre shrugs surprisingly casually considering the nature of his explanation. "Mugging gone really really wrong." He does, however, shoot Kitty a look that could only be taken as apologetic as he explains this. "I keep telling myself I /am/ going to say it was pirates to the next person who asks, but...it was obviously neither of you!" The goofy grin is back by the end of this particular sentence. He tilts his head toward Elliott as he notes, "If you want to call it performance art, press'd probably be better than security to have around."
Kitty almost says 'again?' but manages no keep her mouth shut. It is strange how protective one gets of people when one has rescued them in the past. "I like that- though I'm not sure pirates would go for the legs. Some sort of animal mauling, maybe," she suggests. "A lion could make for an interesting story to tell."
"Or ninjas," Elliott suggests. "The natural enemy of the pirate-- Oh! That reminds me." And she turns and bounds over to the rack of console games, all of three steps in the close confines of the store. Oddly enough, the titles she snags do not feature either pirates or ninjas. Zombies, apparently, are the word of the day.
Andre's face goes a little pale as Kitty likens the nature of his damage to something a big cat might cause. "Uh," he begins, breathing more heavily than before, "lion's less far off than you'd think." He closes his eyes and shakes his head, forcing a smile at the ridiculous sound of his own statement. "The guy was...lion would be a good adjective. Except it's a noun. But you know." As Elliott bounds toward the console games, Andre makes a point of watching her motions and selections, a means of distraction from Creedly thoughts.
The fact that Kitty has an inkling of just who he's talking about is somewhat disturbing to her. It kind of shows on her face. "Oh jeeze," is the best she can come up with to say. She's never met Creed herself, but... she's heard more than enough. "Ooh. Good choice," she remarks, watching Elliott choose her games.
"So I heard," Elliott replies, picking another title out before turning back with a bright smile that is ever so slightly unreal. "I'm grabbing people for a zombie game weekend thingy, so I hope it lives up to the reviews. --Hey, if you guys have some free time, you should stop by or something. Number 310 in the Greenwich Apartments. I'll have chocolate." If inviting complete strangers over to slay undead is out of the ordinary, she doesn't seem to realise it.
Andre winces at Kitty's look of familiarity regarding Creed, but these worries are quickly derailed by Elliott's invitation. "310?!" Andre repeats, more excited about a mere number than anyone really should be. "Oh ma-an, if there's loud drum practicing coming through your hall ever, I'm sorry!" He laughs and shakes his head. "But if that hasn't been bugging you, my girlfriend and I are so up for zombie battles."
"Um. Sure!" Kitty starts going through her bag to find the little pad of Post Its and mini gel pen she keeps with her, quickly writing down her name, email and cell phone number. "Here, just in case something happens and it's off." Kitty is powerless against the temptation of a LAN party.
LAN parties: the weakness of geek girls everywhere. Elliott grins. "Great. Oh, hey, I should probably give you guys my contact information, too. --My name's Elliott, by the way. And I -thought- you looked a little familiar." The last to Andre, accompanied by another grin. "And no worries, it pretty much takes a brass band marching through my living room unannounced to bug me. Hope my dog hasn't been a nuisance - he gets talkative sometimes."
"The dog!" Andre chooses another phrase to repeat that might ordinarily be taken as entirely mundane. "Yeah! I've seen you around too, now that I think about it, but never without the dog." Ah, context! "He hasn't been a problem, though, at least not to me. I'm in 330, so there's some space between. It /has/ been good enough of a space to dim the brass band rehearsals, clearly!" This statement is capped off with a very toothy grin of his own. "I'm Andre, by the way," he adds, tilting his head first toward Elliott and then, perhaps a little longer, toward Kitty.
"I'm Kitty," offers the slightly taller girl to the other two. "Should I bring anything? Drinks, snacks, friends who are unskilled gamers and will thus be easy to defeat?" Sacrificial noobs.
Elliott ponders for a moment before suggesting, "More caffeine's always a good thing! And if you have friends who want to come, they're welcome. The more, the merrier, until I run out of floor space! There are console games available, too." There's a moment of rustling plastic as she rummages for a notepad and pen, flipping past a few pages on the former to find a blank one to jot down her own contact information - twice.
"I'm good for bringing some ice cream," Andre offers, "and also an expert zombie wrangler by the name of Beckah." He smiles fondly as he grants her this title, even in her absence. As Kitty and Elliott start writing down contact information, Andre rummages the pockets of his coat and jeans -- a time consuming process when one only has one hand to work with -- in search of pen and writing surface of his own.
Kitty offers her bright purple post-it and glittery blue inked pen to Andre. They are probably the girliest things she has on her at the moment. "Oooh, ice cream. I like this idea. I can probably bring some energy drinks and snacky foods. And he said you have a dog?" One keeps a large stock of rawhide chews on hand when one has a pet dragon.
Elliott tears the appropriate scraps from her notepad, fumbling a little as she shifts the bags in one hand and games under the other arm to do so, and offers them out. Lines of communication for the win! "A Doberman," she confirms. "His name's Schrodinger - don't worry, he's really friendly." The last is added hurriedly, and has the air of an oft-repeated assurance.
Andre accepts the girly paper and pen in one hand, giving a quiet amused snort, then reorienting so that he's leaning on the shelf and has both hands free, one for holding paper and one for writing out two copies of his assorted contact information. He writes slowly, in a rather futile attempt for legibility. The writing pauses briefly as Elliott introduces the dog in his absence. "Schroedinger," he assesses amusedly, "is possibly the best name for a dog I've heard."
"I'm inclined to agree. I have a" don't say dragon "dog named Lockheed myself. I think naming a pet after a physisist may just win more geek points than an aerospace company." Because he can fly! Get it? "He's a little... intimidating at first, but he really is a sweetheart as well."
"It was all because of the cat," Elliott admits with a faintly embarassed laugh. "Well, and because my then-boyfriend kept suggesting Rex. I think he -still- can't pronounce my dog's name." There's a faint, amused roll of her eyes. "Speaking of, I should probably be heading home. See you guys both later?"
Andre snickers at the explanation of the name, then nods in Elliott's direction. "Yeah, I'm sure I'll see you! What with the whole two doors down thing, and even without the zombie thing. Watch out for pirates on the way home!" As he's still leaning against the shelf, he's able to lift his cane and shake the handle to indicate a hook as he speaks.
"Yeah, I better get back before the" don't say dragon "dog freaks out about his dinner being late. I'll see you guys at the LAN!" Kitty says, before heading off herself.
"Yarr," Elliott intones gravely, then grins, waves (as much as she can, anyway), and bounds towards the cash register to make her purchases before heading home.
Andre, Elliott, and Kitty run into each other in a random games store and plan a Zombie Demolition Night
8 April 2007:
The Easter Bunny would make a rather particular sound coming down the hallway of an apartment building. Large padded pawfeet would undoubtedly thwap noisily against the floor, a higher and sharper sound than human footsteps would make. Andre Harrison is no Easter Bunny, though, despite the CVS bag full of artificially-colored candy that's held in the hand not occupied with his cane. His steps, if anything, are quieter than the average human's, floor vibrations muted by his mere existence. But the sound of a cane knocking against an apartment door should, at least, be distinctive!
From inside of the apartment, Rebecca is not listening for the hop-thwap, hop-thwap of giant egg-laying rabbits come to attack. Nor is she listening for the distinctive step-thump of a man with a cane that Andre is not capable of producing properly thanks to his mutation. The cane against the door? That's a different matter. She is up from her couch and to the door in a hurry at that sound, opening the door wide and holding out all four arms to Andre in offer of an embrace. All four. There is no cast to be seen.
Andre leans into the embrace without understanding its implications immediately, pecking Beckah on the cheek and noting, "It's a legitimate Candy Before Real Food holiday! I came prepared!" He swings the arm of the candy-bearing hand around to return a quarter of Beckah's hugging capabilities, and only after a second or two of holding it there do things click in his brain. "Whoawait. Your cast? What happened?"
The cheek-kiss is reciprocated immediately and then Beckah takes a step back, to hold up the previously broken arm. "It's better," she says obviously, her smile bright. "This woman I met at the hospital, turns out she's a healer or some shit. Touched my arm and it healed. Just like that." She turns her arm to the side, so Andre can see where even the surgery scars are minor.
"Just like that?" Andre repeats, awed but not disbelieving. His mouth hangs slightly open even after he finishes speaking, and he leans forward to examine the arm and its scars as if he himself were the doctor doing the followup examination. "No kidding." He nods slowly. His handwriting's bad enough to be doctor-prescription-ese, so the impression could be all the more complete. When he finishes, though, he straightens and glances at his own leg. "Count me jealous! What'd it...feel like?"
"It tingled and kind of itched. I guess the itching was the surgery cuts closing up." Beckah's shoulders shrug, "I mean, it's weird. It freaked me out pretty hard, especially after that stuff Lucy had happen to her." With a little smile Beckah shrugs a second time and steps away from the door to usher Andre inside all the way. "In the end though, no more cast. And that's all that matters."
Though he's smiling impressedly at Beckah's description of being healed, Andre can't hold up the expression at the mention of Lucy. Lines wrinkle into his forehead and his nostrils flare slightly, though this dissipates rather quickly as he follows Beckah's ushering into the room. He deposits the bag on the table and pulls some of the candy out -- Peeps of various colors, and enough Cadbury eggs to give a professional soccer team a collective heart attack. "Itching is vastly preferable to pain," he agrees. "I'd so take itching, though it's pretty much moot now. I guess the hospital wasn't /all/ bad!" He gestures toward the candy.
For a long moment, Beckah eyes the candy. "You do know I make an effort to eat healthy, right?" She pats a hand against her tummy. The lower left hand. She may be perhaps a bit giddy about the fact that what was to be a pair of months in a cast has been aborted thanks to the mysterious mutant she met.
Andre gives Beckah a toothy grin. It should be noted that his teeth are straight, even, and white, free of cavities and stains. If one were to ask, he'd brag about having never needed orthodontics. And despite this dentist-defying grin, he's opening one of the packs of neon purple bunny-shaped marshmallows. "Ayup. Call me a bad influence, but don't forget that ice cream you left in my fridge!" So innocent!
"You're going to hold that ice cream against me forever, aren't you?" Beckah lets out a huff as she sneaks a hand out to try to snag one of the Cadbury caramel eggs she spied without being noticed. "So uh, yeah. Are we still on for our fish today?"
Andre continues to grin, shrugging so exaggeratedly highly that his shoulders practically touch his earlobes. He manages to liberate a purple bunnymallow from its packaging all the while maintaining this position. "Heck yeah! Celebratory dinner after the dessert!" He pops the candy into his mouth upon finishing his sentence.
With a soft 'mmph' noise, Beckah pops the entire egg in her mouth. She grins around it, her cheeks kind of puffed out as she eats her chocolate. She walks over toward the couch and picks her leather coat up. It is singed in a few places from the incident that broke her arm in the first place, but she doesn't seem inclined to care. "We need to go to the movies this week," she adds.
Andre points a teasingly accusatory finger at Beckah as she goes all chipmunk with the chocolate egg. He finishes chewing and swallowing his own confection of choice, then grins again, teeth now slightly purpled. "Wow, I'm impressed. I think I'd die of sugar shock in two seconds if I ate a whole one of those at once!" He shakes his head, then asks, "We should! What do you want to see?" The picking up of the coat registers in his field of vision, but once again, significance does not immediately hit him.
"Grindhouse, man. Zombie movie! Car chase movie! Same ticket price!" Letting out a laugh and draping the coat over one shoulder instead of putting it on, Beck walks over toward the door. "What else could you need on Easter? Fish and gore."
As the coat is not being donned, it turns out there is nothing that needs to occur to Andre at all! Without such things occupying his thought processes, he nabs another couple of Peeps as he follows Beckah toward the door. "Fish, gore, and artificially-colored sugar," Andre corrects brightly, the sugar already asserting its presence in his bloodstream. "Same ticket price for two kinds of over-the-top awesome? Is that even /legal/?"
"If that kind of movie is wrong, I don't want to be right." As Beckah opens the door, she does indeed put the coat on. She slides her upper arms into the sleeves, but instead of closing it up, she leaves it open. It takes her a deep breath to step out into the hall like that, but she does it.
Andre pauses in the doorway as Beckah steps out, watching nervously, then grinning hugely again as she takes the first step. He strides up behind her as quickly as his cane will allow, reaching his good hand up and squeezing her left shoulder encouragingly. "Nobody said we had to be right!"
Beckah smiles to Andre at the little squeeze. "Just because I can hide now, doesn't mean I should. I figured things out while I was hurt and I'm not stupid enough to just let them go now."
"I didn't think you were going to let them go," Andre assures honestly, looking Beckah as directly in the eyes as he can manage without walking backwards. "And the offer still stands for cane-hitting. I can stand enough without it that I could use it for smacking anyone who calls you out!"
With a crooked little grin, Becks nods her head to Andre, "Deal. But wait until we're not eating fish before you start swinging, oaky?"
Andre nods solemnly back, though it's clear he's fighting with his own expression to stay solemn as he asks, "Even if the fish is doing the calling out?"
Andre inflicts Easter candy upon Beckah! And also envies the unnaturally quick healing of her broken arm.
Zombie Apocalypse part one!
Zombie Apocalypse part two!
3 April 2007:
The beat pattern of Andre's cane against Beckah's door is different than usual tonight. It's far more complex than the standard three-beat pattern -- obviously an excerpt from a piece in addition to an announcement of presence. Yet for this upbeat signal, he looks a little gray around the edges as he waits for a response from Beckah.
The sound of cane on door is different than hands, and even with the little pattern used, Beckah recognizes it fairly instantly. Up from her couch she goes and over to the door. She opens it up with a smile of anticipation on her face at knowing it is Andre on the other side. Oddly, she opens the door in her tank-top, without any attempt at hiding behind it to keep her body from being seen, "Hey!" she calls immediately, eager.
Andre blinks in surprise at Beckah's eager tone, though he can't help but smile through his grayness at her demeanor. "He-ey!" he responds, slipping into the room. "You're sounding better!"
"I'm trying," she notes. She closes the door behind him and heads back toward the couch. "What's going on?" Beck asks.
Andre squints briefly, then shrugs. "Well, the trying /sounds/ like it's working, at least!" He follows Beckah toward the couch, still using the cane but not gripping it or pressing it down so heavily as before. "Not much. Rehearsals and stuff, trying not to think about the 8.1 and tsunami on the news, pretty usual." His tone remains even through this, though his expression briefly sours on the description of recent seismic mayhem. "What's been up with you?"
Beckah looks up at him as he approaches the couch. "Quakes and stuff really bug you, huh?" There is unhidden concern in her tone. She offers her healthy left arm up toward him, as a sort of a combination of a welcome to the couch and an offer of comfort at her asking that question. "I've just been hanging around the house, had a couple of friends come visit. No big things, really."
"They do when people die in them, yeah," Andre explains as he sits and takes up Beckah's offer of an arm to lean on. "Know there's nothing practical I can do, but I guess those bug me more than, like, all those tornadoes last week because I can do just a /little/, you know?" Completely oblivious to the depths of Beckah's lie about insignificance of visitors, Andre flips to that subject with, "Anyone I know? And hopefully not anyone that caused more screaming?"
Her smile turns gentle toward Andre as she gives his hand a squeeze. "You know, there's no reason to feel guilty or upset because you weren't there to try to stop it Andre. It isn't like you're a superhero. Just a great guy." Becks lifts his hand to kiss the back of it gently along with her compliment. "Nah, no one you know. A couple of friends from work, making sure I'm doing okay."
Andre reaches his other hand over to squeeze Beckah's squeezing hand right back. "I know, I know. Really not practical, but it just gets to me a little. The people dying thing, not the not being able to stop it thing." He bobs his head, though the motion is interrupted by the kiss on his hand. He flushes slightly, though his own mouth curls upward to accompany the change of color. After a few seconds of silent blushing, he notes, "That job seems more and more awesome every time you mention it. People checking you're ok...that's pretty above and beyond the call of duty!"
"Yeah. I've met a lot of really cool people lately," Beckah says. Cool, of course, is a good way to describe Dr. Erik Lensherr and Emma Frost. She swallows a bit, as this line of thinking leads her to her next statement. "Andre? Do you want to go out tomorrow?" Her cast is still in place, and will be for more weeks, which would make wearing her coat impossible.
It takes Andre a little while to catch on to certain things. "Of course I'd like to," he responds, some of the red fading away as the width of his smile increases. "Do we want to do Thai again, or--" Pause. Blink. Squint. Scratch of chin. "Waait. How are you going to hide your cast? Did you figure out some ingenious thing?"
"I was thinking about having a random break of the rules and going and getting fish and chips. I'm treating myself, I think. Kind of an indulgence, you know?" Beckah looks at Andre as he scratches his chin and she takes a little moment before admitting, "I'm not going to hide it."
Andre is not the type of person that would object to fish and chips. He is, however, the type who does not elect to discuss fish and chips over major personal decisions. "You're not?" Andre's jaw unhinges a little and his brows raise; there is, however, nothing critical within this expression of surprise. "But that's...I mean. You, just a few months ago...that's a big change. But, uh, a breakthrough, /I/ think." His surprise turns to a smile, and he turns his torso to give Beckah a loose hug. "Congratulations?"
Beckah laughs and hugs Andre back with two out of three working arms. "Well, it's like this. I can either get over it and start living my life, or I can stay out of work for a month or two, until my arm is all healed up. I'm losing a lot of money not working, and I could be missing chances at bigger, better things." She takes in a deep breath and adds, "One of my friends was telling me, that if I get big enough, it won't matter that I'm a mutant. Noteriety works the same way as annonymity."
As Beckah hugs back, Andre's hug tightens. "I'm just...so glad to hear that! Because really, even in December or January...seemed like pretty much /everything/ was on hold, so that you can make this decision..." His grin shows teeth. "I'm dating one of the bravest women in New York!" He takes a deep breath as well, pointing out, "You show them that Vivaldi and you'll be big enough right away, I'm telling you."
Beckah laughs at Andre's enthusiasm. It is certainly helping steel her decision. "You know it might be kind of dangerous, right? I mean, we're going to get stared at and stuff, no matter what." She glances down at herself, "I have four arms."
"If anyone tries anything, I'll hit them with my cane." Andre's expression is hardly grim and vengeful, but it does not twitch with laughter and his tone is not particularly joking. "Seriously, that's /you/, and I will /never/ be ashamed to be seen with you. And besides, there are surely restaurants around town that are more open to mutants than others, aside from...erm." Andre nearly stumbles on the name of a building no longer existent, and bites his lower lip before continuing. "Well, that was coffee anyway. I mean actual restaurants."
"If I am going to break my record and eat meat, even if fish doesn't really count as meat, we're going to A Salt and Battery. I'm not going to hunt down some mutie-joint." Beckah is firm about this, even letting a bit of her old faux-hatred show up. "I'm going to live my life like normal. If I'm not hiding, I'm not hiding."
"A Salt and Battery?" Andre snorts after repeating the name. "Man. With that name...yeah, we're going there." He nods and grins, though the expression fades to a more serious one again with Beckah's resoluteness. "As long as you're not hiding, I'm with you. And you couldn't hide behind me if you wanted to. Too short."
Beckah leans toward Andre, so that her shoulder presses lightly against him. "I've got to grow up and let go of the coat sometime. I can't live my entire life in it, you know?" She smiles to him, "I have the support of great friends, I have a great job, and I have a great boyfriend. Now's the time to do it."
Andre leans into Beckah's shoulder with a nod, smiling as she describes how well her life's going, then blushing a little again at her assessment of him. He sits with this expression for a few silent moments before it evolves into a smirk. "No, you can't live your whole life in it," he agrees. "It'd start to smell pretty bad." Here is where it would be wise to duck preemptively against flying pillows, but he continues to grin in place.
"You know, I'm going to shove that thing in your face the next time you're asleep. Nothin' like the smell of leather that is kind of a little burned." Beckah gives a little grin that is meant to be incredibly theatening.
Andre acts duly threatened! Meaning that he grins right back, though leaning a couple of inches away from Beckah. Whether this is to get away from the predatory threat or to show his grin better is anyone's guess. "I'm sure it's lovely..."
Beckah laughs and yanks Andre back over toward her by his hand, which she still has her grasp on. "You won't be escaping from me, Dr. San Andreas." Her mood is certainly better than it has been lately. "So how are rehearsals and stuff going? You've been all busy lately."
"Gack!" says Andre as he is yanked back. "Curses, foiled again!" He flumps his back against the couch, then leans on Beckah again, obviously frustrated with his capture as he gives a contented little sigh. "Things're going pretty well. I'm still not sure if I get the big snare solo in the Mahler in May, but hey. I can play at all, and we're playing good repertoire, so I'm not really complaining!"
"Want me to go in and rough 'em up?" She offers this with a playful clench of her lower right fist. "I'll destroy them." Beck seems to be back to her usual form, if the geeky laughter over her threat is any indication.
"If they're all destroyed, there is no orchestra left and there will be no concert for me to play a solo in!" Andre protests, eyes wide and jaw gaping in mock horror.
Nodding her head, Beckah lets out a dramatic, but playful sigh. "I guess I can let them live another day then." She wiggles her bare toes a little, looking down at her feet. There is a weird flash of guilt in her expression, brows pulling together and the corners of her mouth pulling down. "Hey Andre?"
Andre nods at Beckah's decision to let the orchestra live, attempting to one up her dramatic sigh with an exaggerated breath of relief. Beckah's expression at the second remark, though, pulls Andre's own into the realm of concern; his brows raise and his mouth also slants down. "Yeah? You ok?"
"Yeah. I'm good" She decides. Whatever it was is pushed down firmly and Beckah returns to simply leaning against Andre. "So what are we going to do tomorrow? Just go eat fishies? We should make an adventure out of it."
Andre maintains his concerned expression for a moment longer, then gives a brief jerk of a shrug as Beckah leans on him. He considers the question, pressing his lips together before deciding, in his best Brain voice, "We should try to take over the world."
"Yeah, but where are we going to find rubber pants our size?" Beckah replies automatically. There isn't even a split-second of thought before she is blurting that one out in reply.
It's fortunate that the standard reply to such a statement is to not reply at all or to change the subject. Brain must never be witty back to Pinky! In this case, Andre first snorts, then breaks into a persistent giggle.
Beckah lets out a laugh at Andre's giggling, leaning more firmly in to hug him. "Man, what would I do if I didn't have someone who watches every bit as many weird cartoons as I do?" She chuckles happily. "Oh. Hey. Have you heard from Kathryn any? I haven't seen her since right after that screaming thing."
"You'd probably make someone watch cartoons with you anyway," Andre points out. "Convert them to Animania!" He continues to giggle around the words and through Beckah's hug, though he manages to cut it out in order to answer the question. "Not in about a week. You saw her right after the Lucy thing?"
"Yeah, I think so. Unless I'm going crazy and all of the damn weirdness in my life is all jumbling up in my head." Beckah shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders, "Kind of worried about her, though. I really do think the Sanctuary thing fucked with her head real bad."
Andre drops by Beckah's apartment to spaz about an earthquake in the south Pacific, and gets cheered up by Beckah's resolve to Be Herself, despite anyone staring.
Cut short because my connection is a jerkface.
6 April 2007:
It is dinner hour, and so the flood of late-afternoon shoppers have abated. This is certainly a welcome thing in the close confines of the Electronics Boutique, where it is all too evident if another shopper has bathed in cologne. Or as is sometimes the case, failed to bathe at all any time within the last geological age. Behind the counter, two employees are casually discussing World of Warcraft. More pointedly, which is more likely to give it up, Night Elves or Blood Elves?
Attention still mostly fixed on the shelf containing PC games, Elliott shakes her head slightly, gaze flicking upwards in a brief eyeroll. Her gaze lights on the object of her search, finally. New Oblivion expansion! Remarkably, it is in stock. Less remarkably, there seems to be only one copy. She reaches for the tantalizing shiny.
Classical musicians have a reputation for being snooty elitists with lives consisting of pure high culture and no mingling with the riffraff. Whoever came up with this reputation, however, has not dealt with many classical musicians. Sometimes, classical musicians just want to kick back and kill zombies on their laptop. For this reason, Andre Harrison, professional orchestral percussionist, browses the edge of Macintosh games section of the store, right where it borders the wider selection of PC games. He leans lightly on a cane as he considers the selection with the kind of careful eye one might reserve for the score of a Beethoven symphony.
Also reaching for the precious software is Kitty Pryde, whose hand reaches the glossy cardboard box at just about the same moment as the other girl's. She turns her head, now noticing Elliott's presence beside her. "Guess we have to fight to the death now, huh?" she says in good humour.
"It's the only solution," Elliott replies gravely, though the dark eyes looking up (though not -quite- so far up as she is used to) at Kitty glint with amusement. "Pistols at dawn, do you think? Or an all out sword duel right here in the mall?" Her lips press together briefly, an expression that tries for thoughtful and doesn't quite hit. "We'd need seconds, of course."
Though he initially continues his browsing of the lamentably small Mac section, Andre's attention catches on the wording of the two women standing nearby. His first reaction is merely to give a breathy laugh to himself, but as the plot thickens, his eyes and then his whole head turn to regard the two, consideration of games halting in the process.
"Pistols, definitely. Don't need mall security breaking up a perfectly reasonable duel," Kitty reasons. She draws her hand away from the box- she's fairly certain Elliott was a fraction of a second quicker, and she doubts she has a real live holodeck (sort of) back home to play with if she doesn't get the games she wants.
"Point." Elliott ponders a moment, before her eyes light with sudden mischief. "You know, if we were dressed as pirates as we dueled through the hall, they might just think it's a piece of performance art and maintain distance for their own sanity..."
The discussion has drawn the attention of the store clerks as well. They look over, anyway.
Certain words tend to latch on Andre's attention even more than random silliness does. 'Performance' is one of them. On that utterance, the percussionist turns in his place, using his cane as a pivot point, until he faces Elliott and Kitty directly. "Hey, that'd /totally/ pass for performance art. Pretty easily. I've seen performance art that's just...way the heck weirder, to the point of unrecognizable. But pirate duels? Very good kind of installation." His tone is genuinely enthusiastic, not at all patronizing. He looks from Elliott to Kitty as he speaks, his attention lingering longer on the latter.
Kitty grins. "You know, I actually /have/ pirate gear," she tells the two of them, just as her gaze rests on Andre. "Hey. You. I know you. I- um. Yeah. I know you." The first rule about superhero club- you don't talk about superhero club. "You can go ahead and take the game," she then adds to Elliott. "My dueling skills aren't exactly up to speed." Total lie. But she's scrawny enough that she doesn't /look/ like much of a fighter.
Elliott laughs. "Don't worry, I haven't held a sword since drama club in the tenth grade, and -that- was made of plastic." She winks, and reaches the extra inch to pull the game down. Damned tall folk and their insistance on putting things up high! "Thanks," she adds, a little uncertain - frivolous though she might seem, she is not entirely oblivious. There are undercurrents to the conversation that are baffling to an outsider. She shifts slightly, bags rustling.
Andre's eyes open wider at Kitty's phrase of recognition, and his head bobs slowly in response. "You know...yeah! I, uh, /thought/ so too," the quality of his voice indicates rather more certainty than a mere thought, "but I wasn't quite sure if I should, ah, say something here..." His lips press together in a briefly more serious expression, but such a thing can only last so long when pirates are also present in the conversation. "I have no pirate things or duel experience," he confesses, smiling again. "Though the cane handle could be a hook if I stuck it up my jacket sleeve. Even though I'd probably fall then."
Kitty looks down at the cane, as if /just/ noticing it. She had made note of it earlier, but commenting on such a thing without him mentioning it first would be /rude/. "Ouch, what happened?" she asks, sounding genuinely concerned. No fair roughing up her rescue when she's not around to play hero some more!
"You could be security," Elliott offers kindly. "Or press, maybe. Bring people to see the crazy pirate women. Like a sideshow." She cuts off the babbling abruptly, head canting to one side in a mannerism not unlike that of a curious puppy.
Andre shrugs surprisingly casually considering the nature of his explanation. "Mugging gone really really wrong." He does, however, shoot Kitty a look that could only be taken as apologetic as he explains this. "I keep telling myself I /am/ going to say it was pirates to the next person who asks, but...it was obviously neither of you!" The goofy grin is back by the end of this particular sentence. He tilts his head toward Elliott as he notes, "If you want to call it performance art, press'd probably be better than security to have around."
Kitty almost says 'again?' but manages no keep her mouth shut. It is strange how protective one gets of people when one has rescued them in the past. "I like that- though I'm not sure pirates would go for the legs. Some sort of animal mauling, maybe," she suggests. "A lion could make for an interesting story to tell."
"Or ninjas," Elliott suggests. "The natural enemy of the pirate-- Oh! That reminds me." And she turns and bounds over to the rack of console games, all of three steps in the close confines of the store. Oddly enough, the titles she snags do not feature either pirates or ninjas. Zombies, apparently, are the word of the day.
Andre's face goes a little pale as Kitty likens the nature of his damage to something a big cat might cause. "Uh," he begins, breathing more heavily than before, "lion's less far off than you'd think." He closes his eyes and shakes his head, forcing a smile at the ridiculous sound of his own statement. "The guy was...lion would be a good adjective. Except it's a noun. But you know." As Elliott bounds toward the console games, Andre makes a point of watching her motions and selections, a means of distraction from Creedly thoughts.
The fact that Kitty has an inkling of just who he's talking about is somewhat disturbing to her. It kind of shows on her face. "Oh jeeze," is the best she can come up with to say. She's never met Creed herself, but... she's heard more than enough. "Ooh. Good choice," she remarks, watching Elliott choose her games.
"So I heard," Elliott replies, picking another title out before turning back with a bright smile that is ever so slightly unreal. "I'm grabbing people for a zombie game weekend thingy, so I hope it lives up to the reviews. --Hey, if you guys have some free time, you should stop by or something. Number 310 in the Greenwich Apartments. I'll have chocolate." If inviting complete strangers over to slay undead is out of the ordinary, she doesn't seem to realise it.
Andre winces at Kitty's look of familiarity regarding Creed, but these worries are quickly derailed by Elliott's invitation. "310?!" Andre repeats, more excited about a mere number than anyone really should be. "Oh ma-an, if there's loud drum practicing coming through your hall ever, I'm sorry!" He laughs and shakes his head. "But if that hasn't been bugging you, my girlfriend and I are so up for zombie battles."
"Um. Sure!" Kitty starts going through her bag to find the little pad of Post Its and mini gel pen she keeps with her, quickly writing down her name, email and cell phone number. "Here, just in case something happens and it's off." Kitty is powerless against the temptation of a LAN party.
LAN parties: the weakness of geek girls everywhere. Elliott grins. "Great. Oh, hey, I should probably give you guys my contact information, too. --My name's Elliott, by the way. And I -thought- you looked a little familiar." The last to Andre, accompanied by another grin. "And no worries, it pretty much takes a brass band marching through my living room unannounced to bug me. Hope my dog hasn't been a nuisance - he gets talkative sometimes."
"The dog!" Andre chooses another phrase to repeat that might ordinarily be taken as entirely mundane. "Yeah! I've seen you around too, now that I think about it, but never without the dog." Ah, context! "He hasn't been a problem, though, at least not to me. I'm in 330, so there's some space between. It /has/ been good enough of a space to dim the brass band rehearsals, clearly!" This statement is capped off with a very toothy grin of his own. "I'm Andre, by the way," he adds, tilting his head first toward Elliott and then, perhaps a little longer, toward Kitty.
"I'm Kitty," offers the slightly taller girl to the other two. "Should I bring anything? Drinks, snacks, friends who are unskilled gamers and will thus be easy to defeat?" Sacrificial noobs.
Elliott ponders for a moment before suggesting, "More caffeine's always a good thing! And if you have friends who want to come, they're welcome. The more, the merrier, until I run out of floor space! There are console games available, too." There's a moment of rustling plastic as she rummages for a notepad and pen, flipping past a few pages on the former to find a blank one to jot down her own contact information - twice.
"I'm good for bringing some ice cream," Andre offers, "and also an expert zombie wrangler by the name of Beckah." He smiles fondly as he grants her this title, even in her absence. As Kitty and Elliott start writing down contact information, Andre rummages the pockets of his coat and jeans -- a time consuming process when one only has one hand to work with -- in search of pen and writing surface of his own.
Kitty offers her bright purple post-it and glittery blue inked pen to Andre. They are probably the girliest things she has on her at the moment. "Oooh, ice cream. I like this idea. I can probably bring some energy drinks and snacky foods. And he said you have a dog?" One keeps a large stock of rawhide chews on hand when one has a pet dragon.
Elliott tears the appropriate scraps from her notepad, fumbling a little as she shifts the bags in one hand and games under the other arm to do so, and offers them out. Lines of communication for the win! "A Doberman," she confirms. "His name's Schrodinger - don't worry, he's really friendly." The last is added hurriedly, and has the air of an oft-repeated assurance.
Andre accepts the girly paper and pen in one hand, giving a quiet amused snort, then reorienting so that he's leaning on the shelf and has both hands free, one for holding paper and one for writing out two copies of his assorted contact information. He writes slowly, in a rather futile attempt for legibility. The writing pauses briefly as Elliott introduces the dog in his absence. "Schroedinger," he assesses amusedly, "is possibly the best name for a dog I've heard."
"I'm inclined to agree. I have a" don't say dragon "dog named Lockheed myself. I think naming a pet after a physisist may just win more geek points than an aerospace company." Because he can fly! Get it? "He's a little... intimidating at first, but he really is a sweetheart as well."
"It was all because of the cat," Elliott admits with a faintly embarassed laugh. "Well, and because my then-boyfriend kept suggesting Rex. I think he -still- can't pronounce my dog's name." There's a faint, amused roll of her eyes. "Speaking of, I should probably be heading home. See you guys both later?"
Andre snickers at the explanation of the name, then nods in Elliott's direction. "Yeah, I'm sure I'll see you! What with the whole two doors down thing, and even without the zombie thing. Watch out for pirates on the way home!" As he's still leaning against the shelf, he's able to lift his cane and shake the handle to indicate a hook as he speaks.
"Yeah, I better get back before the" don't say dragon "dog freaks out about his dinner being late. I'll see you guys at the LAN!" Kitty says, before heading off herself.
"Yarr," Elliott intones gravely, then grins, waves (as much as she can, anyway), and bounds towards the cash register to make her purchases before heading home.
Andre, Elliott, and Kitty run into each other in a random games store and plan a Zombie Demolition Night
8 April 2007:
The Easter Bunny would make a rather particular sound coming down the hallway of an apartment building. Large padded pawfeet would undoubtedly thwap noisily against the floor, a higher and sharper sound than human footsteps would make. Andre Harrison is no Easter Bunny, though, despite the CVS bag full of artificially-colored candy that's held in the hand not occupied with his cane. His steps, if anything, are quieter than the average human's, floor vibrations muted by his mere existence. But the sound of a cane knocking against an apartment door should, at least, be distinctive!
From inside of the apartment, Rebecca is not listening for the hop-thwap, hop-thwap of giant egg-laying rabbits come to attack. Nor is she listening for the distinctive step-thump of a man with a cane that Andre is not capable of producing properly thanks to his mutation. The cane against the door? That's a different matter. She is up from her couch and to the door in a hurry at that sound, opening the door wide and holding out all four arms to Andre in offer of an embrace. All four. There is no cast to be seen.
Andre leans into the embrace without understanding its implications immediately, pecking Beckah on the cheek and noting, "It's a legitimate Candy Before Real Food holiday! I came prepared!" He swings the arm of the candy-bearing hand around to return a quarter of Beckah's hugging capabilities, and only after a second or two of holding it there do things click in his brain. "Whoawait. Your cast? What happened?"
The cheek-kiss is reciprocated immediately and then Beckah takes a step back, to hold up the previously broken arm. "It's better," she says obviously, her smile bright. "This woman I met at the hospital, turns out she's a healer or some shit. Touched my arm and it healed. Just like that." She turns her arm to the side, so Andre can see where even the surgery scars are minor.
"Just like that?" Andre repeats, awed but not disbelieving. His mouth hangs slightly open even after he finishes speaking, and he leans forward to examine the arm and its scars as if he himself were the doctor doing the followup examination. "No kidding." He nods slowly. His handwriting's bad enough to be doctor-prescription-ese, so the impression could be all the more complete. When he finishes, though, he straightens and glances at his own leg. "Count me jealous! What'd it...feel like?"
"It tingled and kind of itched. I guess the itching was the surgery cuts closing up." Beckah's shoulders shrug, "I mean, it's weird. It freaked me out pretty hard, especially after that stuff Lucy had happen to her." With a little smile Beckah shrugs a second time and steps away from the door to usher Andre inside all the way. "In the end though, no more cast. And that's all that matters."
Though he's smiling impressedly at Beckah's description of being healed, Andre can't hold up the expression at the mention of Lucy. Lines wrinkle into his forehead and his nostrils flare slightly, though this dissipates rather quickly as he follows Beckah's ushering into the room. He deposits the bag on the table and pulls some of the candy out -- Peeps of various colors, and enough Cadbury eggs to give a professional soccer team a collective heart attack. "Itching is vastly preferable to pain," he agrees. "I'd so take itching, though it's pretty much moot now. I guess the hospital wasn't /all/ bad!" He gestures toward the candy.
For a long moment, Beckah eyes the candy. "You do know I make an effort to eat healthy, right?" She pats a hand against her tummy. The lower left hand. She may be perhaps a bit giddy about the fact that what was to be a pair of months in a cast has been aborted thanks to the mysterious mutant she met.
Andre gives Beckah a toothy grin. It should be noted that his teeth are straight, even, and white, free of cavities and stains. If one were to ask, he'd brag about having never needed orthodontics. And despite this dentist-defying grin, he's opening one of the packs of neon purple bunny-shaped marshmallows. "Ayup. Call me a bad influence, but don't forget that ice cream you left in my fridge!" So innocent!
"You're going to hold that ice cream against me forever, aren't you?" Beckah lets out a huff as she sneaks a hand out to try to snag one of the Cadbury caramel eggs she spied without being noticed. "So uh, yeah. Are we still on for our fish today?"
Andre continues to grin, shrugging so exaggeratedly highly that his shoulders practically touch his earlobes. He manages to liberate a purple bunnymallow from its packaging all the while maintaining this position. "Heck yeah! Celebratory dinner after the dessert!" He pops the candy into his mouth upon finishing his sentence.
With a soft 'mmph' noise, Beckah pops the entire egg in her mouth. She grins around it, her cheeks kind of puffed out as she eats her chocolate. She walks over toward the couch and picks her leather coat up. It is singed in a few places from the incident that broke her arm in the first place, but she doesn't seem inclined to care. "We need to go to the movies this week," she adds.
Andre points a teasingly accusatory finger at Beckah as she goes all chipmunk with the chocolate egg. He finishes chewing and swallowing his own confection of choice, then grins again, teeth now slightly purpled. "Wow, I'm impressed. I think I'd die of sugar shock in two seconds if I ate a whole one of those at once!" He shakes his head, then asks, "We should! What do you want to see?" The picking up of the coat registers in his field of vision, but once again, significance does not immediately hit him.
"Grindhouse, man. Zombie movie! Car chase movie! Same ticket price!" Letting out a laugh and draping the coat over one shoulder instead of putting it on, Beck walks over toward the door. "What else could you need on Easter? Fish and gore."
As the coat is not being donned, it turns out there is nothing that needs to occur to Andre at all! Without such things occupying his thought processes, he nabs another couple of Peeps as he follows Beckah toward the door. "Fish, gore, and artificially-colored sugar," Andre corrects brightly, the sugar already asserting its presence in his bloodstream. "Same ticket price for two kinds of over-the-top awesome? Is that even /legal/?"
"If that kind of movie is wrong, I don't want to be right." As Beckah opens the door, she does indeed put the coat on. She slides her upper arms into the sleeves, but instead of closing it up, she leaves it open. It takes her a deep breath to step out into the hall like that, but she does it.
Andre pauses in the doorway as Beckah steps out, watching nervously, then grinning hugely again as she takes the first step. He strides up behind her as quickly as his cane will allow, reaching his good hand up and squeezing her left shoulder encouragingly. "Nobody said we had to be right!"
Beckah smiles to Andre at the little squeeze. "Just because I can hide now, doesn't mean I should. I figured things out while I was hurt and I'm not stupid enough to just let them go now."
"I didn't think you were going to let them go," Andre assures honestly, looking Beckah as directly in the eyes as he can manage without walking backwards. "And the offer still stands for cane-hitting. I can stand enough without it that I could use it for smacking anyone who calls you out!"
With a crooked little grin, Becks nods her head to Andre, "Deal. But wait until we're not eating fish before you start swinging, oaky?"
Andre nods solemnly back, though it's clear he's fighting with his own expression to stay solemn as he asks, "Even if the fish is doing the calling out?"
Andre inflicts Easter candy upon Beckah! And also envies the unnaturally quick healing of her broken arm.