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Aug 11, 2015

Oldest Form of Theater | Johnny & Andrea

Tagging → Andrea Sheldon and Johnny Arcos Time Frame → Sunday Evening | August 9, 2015 Location → The Sheldon residence General Notes → " The oldest form of theater is the dinner table. It's got five or six people, new show every night, same players. Good ensemble; the people have worked together a lot.” - Michael J. Fox

Johnny sat just outside of the home he remembered as Andy's, staring at the number of dishes that sat next to him in Elphaba's passenger seat. He had been sitting there for no less than ten minutes contemplating the covered containers, reminding himself not to wrinkle his face with frowns. He was aware of the feelings he provoked in Andrea's father - intentional and not so intentional - but with this dinner, Johnny hoped to assure the man that his comradery with Andy was healthy and fulfilling and beneficial and human... And said assurance or, to be more realistic, less intentional provoking would not occur had Johnny suddenly appeared with a "poof" in the man's kitchen with several main courses, a few side courses, fresh salad and three bottles of wine. With a sigh, Johnny summoned his phone and called Andy.

Andrea told her father not to worry about dinner tonight, which meant not to call whatever take out place they decided on. So they waited in the kitchen, her leaning on the counter and Frank Sheldon against the sink with a beer in hand. He was telling her about the weirdos he got in the hardware store, her favorite topic. A glance out of the window stole her attention however, when she noticed the familiar green vintage car that belonged to Johnny. Her phone ringing in her back pocket made her furrow her brow, but she answered it after a couple rings. Her dad noticed him out there too, when he realized Andy was staring, so there they both stood, watching Johnny from their kitchen window while she answered her phone. "Hello?"

Johnny: "Hello Andrea," Johnny greeted calmly and politely despite the tightness he was starting to feel just behind his eyes. "I have food."

Frank was iffy about having Andy's friend over for dinner, but glad it was happening. With all of her disappearing lately, and the friends she mentioned but he never saw, it was nice to know what one of them looked like at least. His daughter was an adult and she never had restrictions (not that she ever need them), but he wanted to know that she was safe as he saw her less and less. He wasn't a stranger to what an odd town they lived in. It made him feel overprotective, but he had to remind himself that she was not her mother. This guy (NOT a lover, as Andy had stressed), already seemed weird though, as he hadn't left his car.

Andrea continued peering through the window, listening to Johnny on the line. "Um...okay. You gonna bring it in?" she asked, glancing over at her dad, whose expression mirrored her own.

Johnny: The tightness only increased and Johnny became hesitant. "I do not... know how to. I have a lot with me." He glared at the dishes that he had literally not touched since taking them out of the oven. "I have too much with me."

Andrea: "Ohhhhh," she replied, registering what the issue was. Turning to her father, she told him, "He has too much food." Stepping away from the counter, she walked to the door, phone still against her ear. "We can come out and help you with that, just a sec." She hung up, shoving the phone in her back pocket again and opening their front door.

Frank followed Andy down their walkway to the really expensive looking car that her friend drove. It made him raise an eyebrow, but he was sure to keep his expression non-menacing as they approached. He couldn't see the man inside, but he was brunet, from what he remembered his daughter telling him. "Need some help?" he called out, standing next to her with his hands on his hips.

Johnny was relieved at her answer and after she hung up, he tossed his phone away carelessly and took a deep breath. At the sound of Mr. Sheldon's voice, his attention was towards the house and the two figures standing in front of it. After climbing out of Elphaba, he nodded to the man. "Help would be appreciated." Rounding his car, his fingers brushed against the smooth metal of her until they hooked on the passenger door's handle and he opened it. Then he looked at the father-daughter pair expectantly.

Frank paused when the man got out of the car, staring for a few moments before dropping his arms and running a hand through his hair. "The naked guy," he said simply, looking at Andy before walking forward and reaching into the car to pick up what he brought. "Jesus H, you didn't have to bring an 8 course meal," he said, holding a few containers and patting Johnny on the shoulder prior to walking back towards the front door.

Andrea turned a little red when her father recognized Johnny, sighing and reaching in after him for as many containers as she could hold. "Thanks in advance for the leftovers," she said, carrying them back to the house. The kitchen was obvious and to the immediate right, so she was sure Johnny would have no trouble.

Johnny arched a brow at the 'naked guy' comment and the other came up when his shoulder was patted, but he found himself relieved to only have the wine and a few containers left with no human eyes watching to see the way he flicked his fingers to have the remaining food lift up into the air and follow him into the house. Peeking into the kitchen so he could catch a moment when Mr. Sheldon was not watching, he flicked his fingers again and directed the food and bottles to an empty space on the counter. "I do sincerely hope you enjoy French cuisine," he said, starting in on lifting foil and pulling tops off. "I find I always enjoy it more in the summer."

Andrea saw Johnny use his magic, turning to her father to make sure his head was turned. She didn't think she wanted her dad to figure out the supernatural inner workings of their town over dinner. He'd retrieved is unfinished beer and was sipping it, giving her a look that clearly said "You could have told me the naked guy was the friend coming to dinner. And why does he walk around like a Jane Austen character," or something like that. She was an expert at reading him, so if he spoke the words, she only would have been a little off.

Frank tried not to sigh. "French cuisine in the summer..." he repeated, slowly sipping his beer. "We're not that sophisticated in this house, sorry to say. You been to France?" he asked, looking at Andy to express that he was trying.

Johnny glanced up from the uncovered bouillabaisse and glanced over to Andy as well, confused. "Yes, my mother lives there," he said, making a mental note not to delve too deeply into his family history during dinner. But then, thoughtfully, he added, "My cooking expertise is limited, but I doubted that you would enjoy heavy Romanian dishes of boiled meat and stews with this hot weather, so here we are." He offered Andy a sweet smile, "Do you enjoy seafood, my raggedy one?"

Andrea found a seat on the stool at the counter island, playing with her bracelets and watching the two of them. "Right...well you know how it is up here in the mountains. Sometimes it's warm, sometimes it's...not that warm." At Johnny's question, she shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I think so. I don't have it that often aside from fish from the Spartan store, but yeah I like it."

Frank finished his beer and set it by the sink. "Your mom lives in France." It was more of statement than it was a confirming question. "That explains a little bit. But Andy and me, we tend to eat anything as long as it's not moving." He smiled briefly at his daughter before raising an eyebrow again when Johnny addressed her. "Raggedy...I'm assuming that's like the doll. Otherwise I'm lost."

Johnny mimicked Andy's shrug. "I just assumed. You know I'm not one for outdoors." Licking his lips, he offered her a bowl of the bouillabaisse with no explanation of where he had gotten a bowl to spoon it into, but with only the word 'shellfish'. Facing her father again, he smirked and held out a plate of grilled saffron lamb. "Yes. Like the doll."

Andrea looked at the bowl, taking the spoon and staring at it for a few moments. "At the risk of sounding like an idiot here, how do you eat this?" she asked, looking up at Johnny. "Cause like...it's got shells in it."

Johnny: "I won't fault you for using your fingers this time."

Frank actually laughed at that. "You know, your mom knew how to eat stuff like that," he told her. "Before I met her she traveled all over with the money she had, sleeping in hostels, trying to find herself and all that. Wanderlust, she called it. She could tell ya how to eat that." He smirked and went to the fridge. "I'm getting another beer, but you want a glass for that wine?" he asked Johnny.

Johnny nodded at the offer of a glass and smiled again. Curious about Andy's mother, he prodded, "Wanderlust? Where did her travels take her?"

Frank grabbed his beer as well as a glass from the cabinet to hand to Johnny. "Yeah. She uh, fell out with her parents. Didn't wanna go to law school, so instead, she hitchhiked. Saved all her money to go across the pond to Paris so she could flex what she learned and all that. From there she made it to most of Europe, cause you know, some people over there let travelers stay with 'em all the time. Worked here and there and went to Egypt. Which she was obsessed with. After a year in Australia, she made it back to the states. When I met her she was sleeping on a friend's couch. I think she ran out of money." He took a sip of his beer, smiling to himself for a minute before shrugging. "No money, but she knew how to eat fancy clam soup."

Andrea leaned on her palm, listening to her father talk about it before shaking her head and reaching for one of the shells in the bowl. "It's funny, hearing about all that. How she just stayed with strangers and hitchhiked everywhere. I don't like to drive Susan through alleyways and make eye contact for too long," she said, laughing a little. "Guess adventure isn't genetic."

Johnny was absently spreading basil rouille on pieces of bread as he listened to Mr. Sheldon talk, the warmth in his tone reflected on Andy's face. "Genetic, no," he agreed, passing her a piece of the bread. "But opportunity can easily trigger adventure in anyone. Even those who don't drive Susans through alleyways or make eye contact for too long. Human motivation is strange. Perhaps you will never be bitten by the same restless bug that your mother was, but I could picture you, penniless and hungry, backpacking through Austria. You're certainly dressed for it already."

Andrea narrowed her eyes at Johnny for his last comment, shaking her head and eating the inside of the mollusk with her fingers. "Maybe it just takes getting out of Colorado. I've already been to Denver. It's beginning," she said, almost snorting.

Frank licked his lips, eyeing Johnny past his beer bottle. "Speaking of clothes, I notice you've got that uh, designer stuff. You like to shop, Johnny? I know you don't get stuff like that from downtown."

Johnny: "I could easily take you anywhere you wanted to..." he trailed off at Mr. Sheldon's words, surprised that the man wanted to address fashion. Tilting his head as his cat did when she was curious, he assessed the question and the man who asked it. "I have acquired a taste for designer, yes, but I do not shop. I keep up with shows and if I see something I like, I obtain it. Rick Owens is a favorite of mine at the moment." He knocked his heavy boots together to emphasize his point. "Very comfortable. I would, however, consider shopping if it would help Andy any. Aspen, maybe." He nibbled his lip thoughtfully before shuffling down the counter to check his salmon paillards.

Andrea squinted at Johnny, wanting to ask if that was seriously something he could do before he turned to answer her dad's question. She sucked her lips in as Johnny talked about shows and some designer that she nor her father were aware of. "I'd like to say that I still think my clothes are fine."

Johnny: "I respectfully disagree," he said, pouring more wine.

Frank's eyes glazed over a small bit at Johnny's explanation. At least the food was beginning to smell good. He hadn't eaten since lunch, and even then it was a bag of chips. "Like...fashion shows? Runway stuff? Gotcha...no idea who Rick is, but I can take a shot in the dark and say I won't find his stuff at the foot locker." He laughed at Andy's comment, not at all offended by Johnny's words. In their house, he was dressed a little bizarrely, and they were from a small town. Comfort was key, and passed that, they didn't give a shit. "I agree, Andy. She dresses just like her old man."

Johnny: "Perhaps I could buy you a few nicer things and you could lead by example," he mumbled, eyeballing the flannel he had come to expect in Andy-filled spaces. In an attempt to understand, he had worn a flannel-patterned item himself - granted one priced well above a "normal" range - but so far he still didn't get the appeal. His eyes lifted to stare wistfully at Andrea's face and whatever it was she was doing with her hair at the moment. "Andy is just so lovely - fashion is merely a device to enhance that loveliness." He lifted his glass and the already half emptied bottle of wine. "Do you usually eat standing up in the kitchen or...?"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Ah, yes. My loveliness."

Frank held a hand up. "I'm good. Been dressing like this for 45 years, I don't think a change is needed. I can't argue with you on her loveliness. Like the perfect combination of me and her mom. Though I'd prefer not to see her coming home in leather pants like Prince." He set his bottle down and walked around the island toward the dining room. "We do actually, but since we've got a guest, the table's in here."

Johnny gave Andy a teasing poke to the side and mouthed the word 'Prince' to her as he followed behind Mr. Sheldon to the dining room. Just from the feel of it, he could tell that it was not a room that they used often and for the second time, he thought about the benefits of protecting the foundations of the overall structure of the house. The containers of food floated behind him as he contemplated the room and where protective charms could go, but he quickly had them down on the table hopefully before Andy's father could notice. "Your home is... nice."

Andrea couldn't help but let out a small giggle at her father's comment and Johnny's reaction. She grabbed plates and silverware, side-eyeing the floating dishes behind Johnny before they quickly found a place on the table, covered in a cloth picked out by her grandmother. Pulling out a chair for Johnny adjacent to the head, she walked around and placed their dishes before sitting on the seat across from him. Her dad sat at the head, as expected, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Frank looked at the table, squinting a little. "You guys got the food on the table in record time. It's kinda creepy," he said, reaching for a napkin and wasting no time and making his own plate. "So, Johnny Bravo. With family in France and talk of Romanian food, I'm gonna guess you're not from Sangren originally."

Johnny stretched his legs out after he was seated so he could lightly kick at Andy's feet, entertained already that he was sitting for a 'family dinner' that would not end in a poisoning. Maybe. Arching his brow at the nickname and passing Andy the plate of lamb, he thought of Frank's inference. "No, not Sangren or either of the Americas, in fact. My family is from a small farming village in Romania. However, Grandmother preferred France after awhile, Mother followed her preference, but mostly we traveled wherever business took us. When I grew old enough, I traveled much myself - this is only my second time living in America, I think. Before this, I was in Vienna."

Andrea took the plate, snorting at her dad's name for Johnny, her smile staying in place as she put cut pieces of lamb on her plate. It then occurred to her that Johnny probably didn't watch cartoons. "It's why he talks so proper," she added, looking toward her father.

Frank sat back in his chair, chewing slowly as Johnny briefly explained his background. "So you lived in all those places, and then you got to Sangren, Colorado and said yeah, this is my new place. I mean, I like it here, it's home, but you could imagine why that seems a little off."

Johnny smiled indulgently at Andy and the thought of proper, then he lifted the platter of chicken and seaweed salad to laden his own plate with it, hungrier than he had been before now that he had wine in him. "Off?" he inquired, tilting his head slightly as he assessed Mr. Sheldon's expression not for the first time. "I suppose you are correct. Colorado may have its own appeal for some people, but I am not one of them. Truthfully, I moved here because it is the last place my grandmother was seen." The allure of the hellmouth was another reason, but he felt the mention of missing persons would be a solid enough point. Considering the company. "She has been gone for years now and I found myself curious as to why." He took a sip of wine to avoid twisting his lips bitterly. "Fortunately, I was able to find a friend in Andy, so the appeal to stay has been much more... positive, lately."

Frank's expression softened at Johnny's explanation, nodding and looking over at Andy. "Well that makes sense. Sorry bout that. Me and Andy know what that's like. Spent four years looking for her mom. I think this town's a little more dangerous than it lets on." He ate a mouthful of lamb, chewing thoughtfully until he swallowed. "Well, I'm all for friends. I wasn't crazy about her working at that bar, but she likes it and she's got more friends than she's ever had."

Andrea watched her dad, seeing how he tensed as he mentioned the disappearance of her mom. She didn't think there would ever be a time where he talked about it and didn't tense a little. But he was better, and she was happy about that. "Yeah, like three or four," she joked. "Which is more than zero. Makes the days a little better for me too though."

Johnny nodded, opting to remain quiet and with his eyes down as the topic of conversation naturally moved back to Andy's mother. He was glad that Andy had this man, this father who was so aware of the town's intentions and yet still blessedly ignorant of the full extent of its horrors. Johnny wondered what it must be like to be human and in the dark; he would be much more of a coward about it, he was sure. The cheer in Andy's voice lifted him from his thoughts and he stared at her. "Friends can be useful, I'm learning. I only had a few as a child. Acquaintances are easy to come by, but yeah, friends are better." Then he smiled wickedly. "Speaking of friendship, how is August?"

Andrea coughed and dropped her fork, snapping her gaze up at Johnny and glaring.

Frank looked up from his food at the interaction, eyebrow raised. "August? Who's that? Was that the kid you used to have over here all the time for movies? Kid you kept disappearing with? Is he still around?"

Johnny: "No, that was Miles," Johnny provided helpfully.

Andrea tensed herself, slowly picking her fork back up and poking around the food on her plate. "Um, no. That's not him. And no, he's not around." When Johnny spoke, she closed her eyes, biting her lip and trying to keep herself level even though she felt her hands shaking a little. "Milo. His name was Milo."

Johnny observed her behavior with a touch more seriousness, his lips flattening, but not quite frowning yet. "Ah yes, Milo. Forgive me."

Frank studied his daughter for a few moments, picking up on the slight tremor in her hands right away. He didn't have to think about why she might have been getting anxious, and he didn't plan to add to it with the questions he was going to add about August (first of them being, what kind of a name is August). "Well, whoever the guy is, I'm not opposed to more friends. As long as you're still my Andy." She knew what he meant, though as she was in her twenties, he was preparing for the day when that part of her would be different.

Andrea realized she was gripping her fork so tightly, her knuckles were white. At her dad's comment, she finally made a sound in the form of a small laugh, relaxing in her seat a little. "Yeah, I'm still your Andy. Just with a few more friends, who like designer clothes and speak the King's English," she said, looking up at Johnny with a small smirk.

Johnny adopted a perfect "King's" English accent to ask, "Dost thou thirst come late summer months?"

Frank laughed at Andy's comment until he heard Johnny's exaggerated English. "I didn't understand any of that. Are you asking if we're thirsty in August? Because I think it's just a sustenance thing."

Johnny clamped a hand over his mouth, but not before a slight cluck of a cackle let loose from his mouth, the light dimming slightly as he closed his eyes tight and attempted to contain himself. Mr. Sheldon was young, but Johnny supposed he was still a father much like the ones presented on sitcoms and hopeless infomercials.

Andrea: "I usually just nod, or do one of those short laughs. Cause that happens a lot to me," she said, finishing the food on her plate. Pushing away from the table, she grabbed her glass and stood. "I'm gonna go get some water, be right back."

Frank watched her leave, having finished his own plate. He decided to wait until he grabbed seconds. "So you work at the bar? It's good that she's got people there, from what I hear goes on. She comes home unscathed, but you know. I gotta worry, it's my job."

Johnny was warmed at Andy's comments, feeling a kindred moment with her even as he pictured his own father revealing what generation he was from in a single sentence and just barely stopped himself from snorting at that. He was still smiling, albeit a bit more serenely, when Mr. Sheldon poised his new question. "Yes, I am one of the bartenders there. On slow nights, Andy and I talk a lot. On the busy nights, I keep my eyes on her. Our patronage is loyal, so it is easy to recognize faces, both welcomed and not. And our bouncers are commendable, so she is safe as she can be. At least during my shifts."

Frank nodded, leaning his elbows on the table. "You know, I'm glad she's got someone to talk to. Even if they're unexpected, she didn't always have that. So I like it. Thanks for keeping an eye out. I can't all the time without making her feel five years old, it's better if a friend does it," he said, chuckling a little. "I think I'm gonna stick to going to Ted's, but I believe you."

Andrea came back with her water, sitting in the chair and taking a sip of it. "All I heard was Ted's. I can only associate that place with karaoke nights." She looked at Johnny. "He used to take me as a kid, to watch, and it was the funniest thing ever. Drunken middle-aged people belting 80s hits." She took another sip of her water and crossed her legs.

Johnny: "Karaoke," Johnny repeated carefully, as if saying it for the first time and disliking the taste of it. "I've never had to suffer through that before. I heard there were attempts made at Tartarus before my time, but... you know how the crowd there gets. But karaoke aside, your father was just stating his affinity for Ted's. Though," he turned to Mr. Sheldon and smiled, "I hope you can come visit us at Tartarus at least once. If not for the chance to embarrass your daughter, then for a drink on the house?"

Andrea gave Johnny another warning look, sure that her dad didn't see. Tartarus was kept under control most nights, but she still wasn't crazy about her dad being there, out in the open. "I visit him enough at work, I don't think he needs to bother with the annoying people at the bar."

Frank shrugged. "I've certainly seen the outside of it. And she doesn't need me harshing her mellow around all her friends, however many there are, and however weird their names are," he replied, reaching out to nudge Andy.

Johnny: "I always thought 'Johnny' was a nice name," he said softly, dipping a piece of bread into his bouillabaisse, willfully ignorant because Andy was looking at him that way.

Andrea waved a hand and finished her glass of water. "He's not talking about you. Pretty much every name mentioned, but not yours. Despite nothing about you being normal, your name is." She noticed that everyone was finished eating for the most part and stood, reaching to get plates.

Frank grabbed Johnny's plate and followed his daughter into the kitchen. "We can just pop the tops on those containers and put 'em in the fridge unless Johnny wants to take 'em home," he said, waving her away when they got to the sink so he could quickly wash the plates and put them in the rack. He let her get the rest of the food as he did so.

Johnny chuckled and refrained from telling her that his real name was 'Anton'. Instead he said, "I made all of this for you. It would just rot away in my fridge otherwise." When he was left sitting at the table the duo was clearing and then found himself alone in the room when it sounded like they were being productive in the kitchen, Johnny found himself frowning. Andy came back eventually, so he asked, "Should I be doing something? Offering to help? I don't want to help, but I should, yes?"

Andrea laughed, as well as her dad, who clearly heard him from the kitchen. "You don't have to help, we'll be done in a few," she said, collecting the containers. "But you can join us in the kitchen on a stool or something. You don't have to sit in here by yourself." She carried the food into the kitchen and set it on the counter, loading it into the fridge in places they would fit.

Johnny followed Andy into the kitchen and found a place on a counter where he could watch them quietly and drink more wine.

Frank wiped his hands with a towel and turned to face Johnny as Andrea finished filling the fridge. "It was nice of you to stop by with enough food to last us the rest of the week," he told him, offering a smile. "But Andy says you two have to talk and I'm ready to head upstairs until I get hungry later." He turned to his daughter and gave her a quick hug, ruffling her hair before walking out into the foyer to go upstairs.

Johnny nodded to the man and offered a smile, his friendliest, one with teeth. "Thank you for having me, sir," he said, watching the man exit before turning back to Andrea. "We have to talk?"

Andrea kicked the fridge shut and went to sit next to Johnny. "Well," she began, drumming her fingers on the counter. "You wanted to take a look at the scar? That's how you coming over began. Not that that wasn't fun."

Johnny: "Ah, yes," he said at the clarification. He hopped off the counter and walked to her. Then he murmured, "Is there a place where you can take your shirt off and we won't have to worry about making your father dislike me so soon?"

Andrea laughed at that, nodding and sliding off the stool. "We can go to my studio." She led him to the stairs and down the familiar path to her studio from when he was last there. Once he was inside, she shut the door before walking to sit in the middle of the floor, waving him over to do the same.

Johnny opted to sit behind her when she arranged herself on the floor and he tugged at her flannel restlessly. "Let's see the damage," he said lightly, despite the sense of dread tightening his throat and chest.

Andrea sighed, quickly tugging off her flannel. She pulled off her tank top, setting in aside and pulling her hair over her shoulder so he could see it clearly. She hunched, crossing her legs and biting her lip, hoping it wasn't serious. She hoped it looked the same. She tried not to be tense, waiting for him to assess it. "Well?"

Johnny: "Oh, nu, ce am făcut?" he sighed softly, touching his fingertips to thin rope of scar tissue he had left along her back. He could see how the creature had burst from her that night, he could smell her blood and hear it's taunts and taste the amber he barely knew how to use. "Imi pare rau. Cicatricea..." He trailed off and let him eyes go empty, searching for his blood in hers, searching to see if it was healing and nothing was festering. For a moment - a brief, blink of the eye moment - he thought he felt something, nothing like an echo of what he was looking for, but something acidic, but then he found what he was searching for. The tree's blood, his family's blood warding her spine against any other invasions. He wished he could do the same for the rest of her body, but the scars he would leave behind. His eyes were back to pale blue in a blink and he ran his hand up and down her back, chanting his words and wishing fruitlessly that he had the ability to heal what he had ripped apart for once. "There's been no change from what I see. My spell still holds and it should hold, forever. I'm sorry, Andy."

Andrea reached for her tank top and put it back on, moving so she could turn around on the hardwood floor and face him. "What are you sorry for? That's good news. I feel like I can breathe a little now. I think out of worst experiences, that's gotta be one or two," she said, attempting to be lighthearted. "But seriously, this is good. I don't know what's wrong with me now, but at least it's not as bad as before. It could just be me. Maybe I'm not getting enough sleep."

Johnny throat still felt tight, regardless of her assurances. "I didn't want to find that I had failed you in some way with the... dark thing, but I find that I am disappointed that I am unable to solve this new problem for you." He gnawed at his lip, knowing that if he was a different witch, he would be able to provide something for her sleep or make an offering to a goddess for her memories and an explanation, but he was not. It would be the long and bloodied route if he were to solve this, but asking her for more sacrifice for something trivial as forgetting one night was unthinkable, especially when facing the evidence of last time's sloppiness. "I could make you a tea my grandmother used to make us. For sleep."

Andrea smiled. "No, it's...it's fine. Like I said, I'm sure it's nothing. I just started to worry that other things had been happening and I had no memory of them. I'm hoping it was just that instance," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Maybe we're paranoid. But the tea, I'd like. My dreams are really weird lately, too. I don't know why. Like, I'm used to nightmares, but things just feel...off."

Johnny sighed and conjured a notebook to hand to her, dark and moleskin. "Here. Write things down. For perspective, at the very least." He pushed himself off the floor and stood, offering his hand to help her up. "Come, I will make you the tea and you will drink it, there will be no nightmares for either of us and you'll draw me another picture to show my cat. This sounds good, yes?"

Andrea took the notebook, smiling down at it before taking his hand and standing up. "Okay, I'll drink the tea. I can draw you a picture, too. Valva will love it. And if possible, she will love me more than she already does," she joked, taking him by the arm so they could go back downstairs.

#p #para: oldest form of theater #johnnyarcos #sangrenrp #ooc: sorry for any typos #after my computer shut down in the middle of editing i was disenchanted

andreashelfish