Not Again... (Raeoki)

[Cham]

Arya sat at the counter of the store. Nothing had gone well that day. But then again, when had it ever? Reminiscing only hurt, but she had nothing else to thing about...

He had taken her into his arms... Kissed her, made her think she was worthwhile... But once she really began to believe she could be loved at the level he was showing, he ran... She was put on probation for fooling around with the boss while he escaped to the Capitol to steal some other poor souls creation. Working in his shop was bad enough, but he kept his promises... She was the Manager of the store. She had to look at the bloody name every day that once meant everything to her. The one that once filled her with a happiness that could not be sated. A face she used to dream about, One she used to love... But that was all over now. He had left and there was no use thinking about him anymore. But she couldnt help it...

Standing she swept the floor, and wiped down all of the surfaces. Just about to shut off the lights and lock up, a man walked in. Sighing she walked back behind the counter and took off her jacket. "Can i help you with anything?" She asked wearily, Putting on a clearly false smile, and standing up straight. But after a moment of his perusing and not responding, her shoulders slumped and she sat down on the stool behind the register. Whenever he was done, she would go home, pick out her paints and canvas, and sit on the beach. She would be too late to paint the sunset, but the starlight would be gorgeous as well. If she got there in time...

[Raeoki]

LOVE! Love will keep us togethah!
Think of me, babe, whenevah,
Some sweet talkin’ girl comes along,
Singin’ a song,
DON’T MESS AROUND,
YAH JUST GOTTA BE STRONG!

The tune was rather like the sea, and Elliot Phycadorus’s mind was rather like a beach; the song continuously surged forth towards Elliott’s mind, then retreated, then leisurely surged back. It would leave, but the period of its missing refused to be absolute; Elliott was experienced enough to know that, till a new song was heard, the current musical host would not fully unlatch its fangs from his brain. Not that Elliott minded; he rather liked the light-hearted, cavorting instrumental, and the singer’s passion for her man rather touched him right there, in his large, squishy heart that was full of blood and humanly compassion.

STOP!
Cause I really love you;
STOP!
I’ve been thinkin’ of you.
Look in my heart and let LOVE,
Keep us togethah~~~~~.

Elliott really didn’t know why he had gone into that store. He was currently in no need to purchase any of its merchandise; to be honest, he really had to get home, so he could feed Swimmingtrunks the Badass Goldfish – but he didn’t really want to see Swimmingtrunks, no matter how badass that badass goldfish was. Swimmingtrunks wasn’t as badass as he used to be; nowadays, all he ever did was sleep at the bottom of fishy bowl. He didn’t even eat his fishy food, nor would he react and swim around all cute and frantic like he used to whenever Elliott tapped the spherical wall of Swimmingtrunks’s fishy bowl. To be frank: Swimmingtrunks the Badass Goldfish had abased to Swimmingtrunks the Frankly Boring Goldfish. And this bothered Elliott horribly, for if all Swimmingtrunks wanted to do was sleep, then that meant that Swimmingtrunks was old – older than Elliott. And it had always been a hope of Elliott’s that Swimmingtrunks would survive him someday.

Unfortunately, the more immature side of Elliott’s brain sent through Elliott’s emotional state a very unpleasant and torturous sensation, which often repulsed him from even thinking of poor little Swimmingtrunks. Of course, Elliott pitied Swimmingtrunks the Aging Goldfish* – how could he not? He loved the little fellah dearly – but, still…Elliott hated thinking of aging and sleeping and his poor little fishy dying. He loved that fishy. He loved that fishy dearly.

He was so immersed in his musing of Swimmingtrunks that he didn’t notice the female amble up to him, and ask him in a most polite manner if he needed a hand. However, Elliott did not respond, nor did he notice his rudeness; when Elliott decided he was focused on a thought, his mind clung to the musing with the tenacity, tightness, and desperation of a drowning cat. Oddly enough, it wasn’t till she turned and proceeded to part from his immediate presence that he realized she existed; he noticed her out of the corner his eye, and he would have continued to ignore her, if he hadn’t noted her shoulders: they were slumped forward, giving her an almost hunched over opinion, as if a great and very heavy burden had been placed on her poor back.

Elliott’s mind, emotions, and attitude were rather like a trio of magnets when it came to melancholy and possible chances of heroism (“heroism” being redefined here as not an act of daring-do and rigorous, yet valorous, action, but of simply being a good and gentle person). For example: if he saw a cat stuck in the tree; then, come Hell or high water, that cat was coming down. It was the same way for a person of a depressed atmosphere – he was going to make that person laugh, by God, or his name wasn’t Elliott Phycadorus!

He watched her slink over to the back of her cash register; heard the groanish noise the stool and floor as she pushed the stool back to rest upon it, making the feet of the stool rub against the wood paneling. Elliott waited till she looked comfortable enough (as comfortable as one can be, when sadness ensnares a person), and then made his move.

Elliott almost swooped down upon the counter, with the suddenness and rapidity of a hawk as it streaks towards the earth and snatches its prey in its mighty talons. He stopped abruptly in front of the counter, then paused, becoming still, his eyes gently peering at her with almost loving curiosity; then he set his elbow upon the counter, and leaned against it, and paused again. However, after that second brief expanse of silence was soon completed, Elliott finally spoke: “It looks like you…have somethin’…on yer miiind.”

________
*In case y’all don’t get the joke: Swimmingtrunks the Aging Goldfish is actually Swimmingtrunks the Very Dead Goldfish.

(ooc: If anybody’s wondering about Elli’s speech pattern, he’s supposed to sound like an overdramatized William Shatner.

And apologies for the random song. (I was trying to set the mood of Elliott's side of the thread.) It's called "Love Will Keep Us Together". God knows who it belongs to.

More apologies to the fact that this post really isn't all that good. It's shorter than usual, and...yeah. I'm really going for not being dramatic with Elli. I prefer him as being a strictly comical character. Y'know? There's a lot of angsty characters, so...I thought I should shake it up a bit. :3 )

[Cham]

Arya was clearly startled. This strange man, although quite attractive, had bounded up to the counter like a cat. He was leaning a little ways over. She jumped back a few inches, and nearly fell off her perch on the stool. Whispering "Jesus-fucking-Christ" A hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her fluttering heart.

Looking strangely at this man "Erm... Cou-Could I help you with something?" Her eyebrows contorted in confusion and admittedly a little fear.

Standing, she straightened the apron tied around her waist thinking all the while 'What could possibly be wrong with this man? I swear if hes a drunk or on some sort of drug im kicking his sorry rear out. I dont need this today, or frankly any day for that matter. God, I cant wait until I hear back from the other shops'

But after a moment, she realized those thoughts werent helping her any, so with a sigh, and a clealy plastic smile, she replied to the stranger "There is nothing on my mind. Can i help you with anything tonight?" -- Wait a second... Hadnt she already said that? Had he responded while she was ranting on in her head. Shed have to pay closer attention...

______________________________________________

Madam you are ridiculous. That post is amazing, so hush it up sistah

[Raeoki]

(ooc: xDx Ah hah...thanks. ^_^; )

Oh, Hell, she didn’t give in right away. Must be one of those…reserved…people…or…whatever, Elliott figured, with a thoughtful and curt bob of his head. A very large grin suddenly sprouted on his face, one that gave him a joyously maniacal appearance. By God – I SHALL CRACK THIS NUT WITH MY BARE, MASCULINE HANDS OF GOD! he thought resolutely, and would have slammed his fist upon the counter, if he was not currently in Arya’s present company.

It then occurred to Elliott, as he gave her face a swift glance over that the way she was contorting her face was not in the stoic passiveness of an introvert, but in the confused and frightened sense of an extrovert. Immediately did Elliott feel within his wide and squishy and oven-like heart a pang of empathy and sympathy that caused him to cringe for her; for, truly, that was the face of a hurting soul, waiting to burst into the outer realm of non-souls and the universe with which they exist, but the body was just far too reserved to let it be released. And, now that he peered over the counter, it was a rather appealing body: one that was slender, attractive, and feminine; but then again, she was a blond – blonds were naturally hot. Nothing new about that. But Elliott was permitting himself to be distracted! He could not allow that! He must be Elliott – the rock! The anchor of mankind! He was a MAN! Men do not allow men to be distracted by hot chicks! Bros before hoes! Bros – before – HOES! And currently, he must think of this lady as a bro, if he was to crack her rigid, nut-like shell of icy austerity. And he was. He shall! RAWR! CRACK DIS NUT LIKE A BOSS!

The sigh that she exhaled confirmed his suspicions about the soul that wailed and thrashed and clawed at the sides of its hot shell to be freed. The poor female was obviously in a state of intense melancholy; but, oh, what was the reason behind this introverted ways of her body? Her soul was an extrovert; her body, an introvert. But why? What could possibly be holding her back? What was on her mind? Oh, how he hated it when they struggled! Why couldn’t they just tell him? Why couldn’t people like this humble store-owner merely relax, and allow her soul to free and fly in the wind, with all the other souls? It seemed to Elliott that she would be much happier if that was the case. But, oh! People just have this strange apprehension to happiness that Elliott had never understood. For he had been unhappy once, just like this girl; but then he released his soul to body enhancement and physical activities that boosted his now river-like testosterone, and he was so, so happy! And why did he take that transition from unhappiness to happiness? Because he was tired of keeping his soul within him; because he wanted it to be free, and happy, and corporal activities had been his gateway to happiness. Hmmm…perhaps I ought to suggest that she try jogging and all that. Would she mind? She looks like a jogger…murph…

The lady’s reply shattered his train of thought: "There is nothing on my mind. Can i help you with anything tonight?"

That’s odd. Did she or did she not ask him that already? Had he responded to her. Crap. His memory was sucky. Oh well. Elliott promptly returned his attention to the task at hand: the task…of CRACKING THIS NUT!!!! His eyes flashed; he cried out in a loud, booming voice: “YES! YES THERE IS!” He slammed his other elbow on the counter, and jabbed his finger in her direction, as if he was menacing her with a knife. “YOU, MADAM…ARE A LIAR!” He then quickly added, in a kinder, more polite tone of voice: “No offense. But, you still are. Seriously. There is…CLEARLY…something on yer mind…that you ain’t tellin’ me. Now…please…TELL ME IT, GOSH DANG IT!” And, simply for the effect of emphasis, he raised a fist into the air, and swung it down upon the counter, relishing the loud thump noise that resonated from it.

(ooc: “What do you mean this post wasn’t written on crack?”

Apologies for the shortness. X( )

[Cham]

Arya was looking intently at this strange strange man when he burst out. Screaming at her. A yelp crossed her lips, and she jumped. Feeling for a moment she might wet herself from fright. But unexpectedly, she let out a giggle. What was wrong with her? And why was he making her laugh? So strange...

Letting her smiled melt mostly off her face, she looked up at him, shocked, and laughing again when he slammed his fist down a second time. Covering her smile with a hand, looking down at the ground, composing herself. "Sir... May i ask your name? Im... Erm... Im Arya... Arya Devon." Holding her hand out toward him. "And to be quite honest with you sir, Right now this is all thats on my mind."

With a strangle, half choked laugh, she pushed the menacing finger from her face.

[Raeoki]

Ah! And thus the sun blasted away the dark shrouds of melancholy, like a laser fired by an enemy alien rocket ship! The shell of austerity had begun to crack, just a tad; a wisp of her soul had drifted from the minute puncture in the shell, and had proceeded to mingle and giggle with the other happy souls. He could tell that he was making progress; she had laughed: why, he hadn’t a clue, but who cared of details?! Progress was progress, in his mind! And so long as her face broke out, like some horrid skin condition, in smiles, he was much pleased. But Elliott was well aware of what had been racking her emotional state and plaguing her mind with worries and vexes was still very much alive; conquered, for now, but not defeated. It would return, to repossess her; and as her bro-for-an-hour (or so), Elliott could not – WOULD not – permit that!

It first came as a giggle; then, like a geyser that had been dug up by Jesus, it exploded into a fantastical and rainbow-esque chortles that immediately filled Elliott with a sudden light and euphoric sensation. For he found that he rather liked her laugh; it was a good laugh. One of those laughs. Dat laugh… A happy, free, almost childlike laugh; and as he continued to think about it, it occurred to him how horrible it must be, to be such a lovely blond with such a lovely laugh and yet feel so unlovely inside. He wondered if she always felt so unlovely; was it rare that her lovely laugh was to be heard by human ears? Did she permit herself to laugh, or was she too filled with unlovely thoughts and feelings all the unlovely time, and thus could not force herself to show the world how lovely her laugh was. Poor girl…Oh! That is it! The nut is cracking! I SHALL CONTINUE TO SPLIT ITS SHELL!

She pushed away his finger of menace, and – much to Elliott’s glee – proceeded to introduce herself: "Sir... May i ask your name? Im... Erm... Im Arya... Arya Devon." She then added: "And to be quite honest with you sir, Right now this is all thats on my mind."

Elliott merely snorted. “Well, Miss Arya Devon – if that…is…your real name – YOU” (suddenly jerking his finger into her face, then abruptly lying it on the counter again) “are a filthy liar, and I…am not sure…if I can forgive you. But I MIGHT! Now…anyway…my name…is…Elliott Phycadorus, member of…that guy…Sir Arty’s…Knights of the…Cuuuuuuuuubular Table…” Here, he held up his hands, and made a gesture with it, with which he made a circular shape in the air. “If you get mah drift.” He nodded his head curtly, and with a strange knowingness that somehow radiated with undeterminable sagacity.

“Anyhoodle…you have gotten myself…off that there topic of ours,” he said, as he leaned his well-formed body against the counter. “The fact of the matter…it don’t matter right now about what you’ve got on your mind now…it was what you were thinkin’ about…before.” He tapped the tip of her nose with his fingertip for emphasis, nodding sagely all the while. His voice then hardened into a new sternness, and the muscles in his face tightened. “I know a sad fellah when I see one! So, c’mon! Cough up dem beans!”

(ooc: SHORT POST ARMY. Dx Sorry!!!!)

[Cham]

Arya couldnt help it. Her smile grew until it reached her eyes. This guy was funny! Her smile flickered along with her eyes down toward the ground as a thought came to her mind. He wouldnt be around long to cheer her up. Her grin vanished completely at the thought of being left alone with only her thoughts of Leo...

Running her tongue along the inside of her teeth, and taking a deep breath. Questioning now, why this stranger even wanted to know her to begin with! "It was nothing, really. Its been quite a long day." Checking her watch, eyebrows flying up, then looking up to the clock that hung form the wall. "Shit..." She looked up at him, and blushed "Sorry for... yeah..." Not really wanting to apologize for her lapse in speech. She was late... So very late. There was no way she could paint the sunset now.

Gazing softly out the window, then once again taken aback by this man's ferocity. his finger in her face, then swept away. Her smile crept back onto her face, and as he spoke she bit her lower lip. Trying to hold back the grin she still couldnt help. He was so amusing! "Really! It was nothing of any importance!"

“I know a sad fellah when I see one! So, c’mon! Cough up dem beans!”
Arya chuckled once again. Scrunching up her nose when he touched her. A sudden, strange warmth radiated from there, like curling up too close to the fire on a cold night. She felt it rushing through her whole body, warming the hollowness she felt inside.

An honest, but shy grin appeared on her face now. What was wrong with her? At this moment, after his touch, not even the thought of Leo leaving her hurt. She just felt warm. "Well, it was just a stupid guy. He kissed me, pretended, that stupid stuff. Really it is of no importance. I do however appreciate the concern. Its a rare quality about the district as im sure youve noticed."

[Raeoki]

Ah hah! The torch of truth has, at last, shone through this silk of dark deception and melancholy! Immediately, the golden bliss of triumph coursed within Elliott’s body, making his grin twitch into a wider, almost maniacal that stretched far across his cheeks, and his body stiffened, as if he was stretching himself to make himself look taller. He knew it! The nut has been cracked! Cracked like a - DRUG! A strange compulsion swelled within him, to put his large hands upon his hips, toss his head back, and laugh at the ceiling – a large, manly, hearty laugh that would make Santa Clause jealous. He decided promptly that it would rise from the depths of his manly belly and cause his shoulders to quiver (in a manly way) and his chest to shudder (also in a manly way); however, the trembling of either part of his anatomy did not occur, for Elliott had enough self-control within him to not permit himself to randomly laugh at something that wasn’t even a joke.

Besides, the time to laugh was not now! It would be inappropriate – immature! He refused to permit himself to fling himself into the arms of mirth, whilst another was roiling in the throes of rejection and fallen love! How could he do that? No! Once this Arya (he would not be calling her “Miss Devon” anytime soon, for he had never believed in being on a last-name basis) had shed her flesh of misery, THEN – and only THEN – would he permit himself to laugh. And when he did – he decided that he would laugh the testosterone-oozing laugh of Russian Czars as they cut off the heads of their not-as-manly (but still pretty manly) political opponents!

It occurred to Elliott, then, that the Russian Czar laugh might take a while, however; lost love and back-stabbing boyfriends were pretty hard to get over, if all those Capitol soap operas his mom watched were true (the Capitol permitted the career districts to watch some television programs that were transcribed from the great capital city, though admittedly the programs were few and usually lacking in terms of quality). Often (and Elliott was still going by his knowledge of soap operas) it took a few seasons of angst, wrist-slitting, and hell of a lot of random crying for a girl to get over the fact that her lover cheated on her with a sexier, curvier lady of particularly ill repute.

Blast! Elliott didn’t have fifteen or sixteen episodes (or more, depending on the number of seasons the writers decided to force the sticky female lead to endure her tragic pain) to console this girl and tell her that she didn’t need that eunuch to live her life! To assure her that she was an independent black woman WHO DON’T NEED NO MAN!!!! Then again, she did say it was of no importance…but you know what? SHE BE LYIN’. LYIN’ LIKE A FOX, DAT WHAT!

Spurred on by this realization and his constantly bubbling energy and mania to help those in need, he beat his palm down upon the counter in a resolute, testosterone-esque fashion. “FIRST of all!” he exclaimed, and lifted up his finger, and wagged it about in a condescending fashion (in response to Arya’s comment about how District 4 residents often lack empathy). “Don’t be that red-headed, bisexual (but not for the right reasons) cynic that lurks in a dark corner with an awkward smile and likes children just a tad too much and has more than a few angst-spasms cause he’s emotionally f*cked in the head*. (That was a really long sentence right there.) It ain’t cool. Peeps are nice, no matter where they are. ‘Kay? Kay. We good on that there subject.” He nodded curtly, sagely.

Elliott, in a gentlemanly, airy fashion, rapped his fist upon the countertop once again. “SECOND of all!” he declared, and leaned forward across the counter, his face moving closer to Arya’s. “YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUU, my dear Miss Arya, are not ONLY a traitor to your country (prepare to be executed!!!), but also a double-over LI-YAH!!” His body jerked off the table in a swift, sudden movement that a witness might have very well missed, had said witness blinked his eyes at that moment. Elliott then slammed his boot upon the floor for emphasis, and continued, his hands gesturing about before him in jerk-like movements. “(You’d think you’d know better, by now.) If this…BOY…cause obviously his loins are too tiny and inflexible to be of a man (don’t ask me how I know – I just do)…was so unimportant to you, then why do you sigh and moan and weep and gnash your teeth as if you were trapped in the wondrous world of Mary Shelley? Eh? And another thing: seeing as how this…BOY…is so important to you, I’d just like to assure you – if you will let me, Arya – that YOU do not deserve back-stabbing bastards who lie and cheat and steal and most likely murders kittens with harpoons and stuffs their bodies in some taxidermical way and decorates his house with their pelts. And yah should…definitely…be glad the feliscidal a-hole is out of your life for good!”

_________________________
*HEY HOSPES.

WE’RE TALKING ABOUT YOU.

Hospes: ...Eff you and your family… >_>

(ooc: Hey, uh, can you do me a favor and assure me that Elli does actually amuse you? xDDD Cause…I want him to be funny…and I’m afraid I’m playing him wrong…

And, to be honest, I really doubt that Elli would actually read Mary Shelley (I’ll just cop out and say he watched a movie that was closely based off the book!!! YAY FOR COPPING OUT!!!!)…but the line amused me so much I had to throw it in there. xD (If you’ve read Frankenstein, you should know what I mean. The main characters have deposited much angst into the National Bank of Misery.))

[Cham]

Arya couldnt help but grin. What was with this guy? And what was wrong with her? Why did she feel anxiety at the thought that he just might take wing and leave? This was one strange predicament. But even thinking that, she decided to play alone. Moving her face closer to his, and tapping on his nose this time "Actually sir, you mistook my meaning of unimportant. I clearly meant this situation is unimportant to most people. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it"

She sat back and folded her arms, challenging him in a way. A smiling-smirk couldnt be wiped off her face. Surveying him and a strange thought came into her head. How would this odd man react if she leaned forward when he did. What would it feel like to brush her lips against his...

Eyes widening at her transgressing thoughts. The only other time she had felt like this was with Leo, and he was an ass and up and left her! Deciding to be professional from this moment on, she brought her giggles under control, and forced her muscles to stop smiling. Coughing a little, and trying to glaze over her eyes a little. Put u a film over her thoughts.

"But anyways Mr... Phycadorus was it?" Clearing her through, and putting on a kindly smile. "What can i help you with?" Folding her hands and leaning back.

[Raeoki]

Oh, it sure was swell to hear this nut crack and pop beneath his all-mighty hands of manly! It was wonderful, to know that he had managed to make her smile; he didn’t know if she was smiling merely for his own benefit (mostly because he really didn’t think about that aspect at all), but it was absolutely wonderful to see it on her face. It made her face so much brighter; so much younger – and in such a compounded way that her face became what Elliott would later refer to as “eye-glue” – once you look at it, you can’t look away: your eyes were literally fixated onto it.

The nut was even cracked enough that she was starting to play with him! She was presently leaning forward over the counter, just as he had done earlier, and pressing her fingertip to the tip of his nose; and, as she did this, his eyes became round, almost childlike, and glazed over, making him look rather dull. “Derp!” he chirped, in a soft, light, yet particularly pleased voice.

"Actually sir, you mistook my meaning of unimportant,” she informed him. I clearly meant this situation is unimportant to most people. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it"

The unintelligent, yet blissful expression on Elliott’s face suddenly evaporated, becoming strikingly intelligent in a gentlemanly, dashing sort of way. His body spasmodically assumed a pose, one elbow set atop the counter, a hand wrapped about his hip. His hand curved about, as if he was holding up an invisible pipe for Arya to examine. “I just might, thank you,” Elliott replied with a curt nod and a suave smirk, his voice becoming exaggeratedly elegant and stereotypically higher-class. He then proceeded to stick the pipe (crafted not from wood, but from imagination) into his mouth, and made a good show of pretending to chew on its end as invisible smoke wafted from the equally pellucid pipe. However, despite his joke, he still felt worry prickle at him; the fact that she was referring to how it wouldn’t matter to other people, and not to herself, made him all the more spurred to show Arya that she needn’t wallow in such unhappiness and misery – that she was perfectly capable of not letting this tragedy of the heart bite and gnaw at her till she was not but bones.

Just to make his worry become more vehement, the nut gradually proceeded to heal before his very eyes. Slowly, Arya’s listenable laughter was muted; she pulled her face till they were straight and hard, and her face was not but a perfect portrait of stoicism. This compounded his worry, till it became exaggerated; till it morphed into sudden, chilling panic that made his hands spasm, thusly forcing him to drop his pseudo pipe. His body bolted into an upright position, so his weight was being fully set atop his feet, not partially on the table; and his face went slack with terror at her stone-like transmogrification.

"But anyways Mr... Phycadorus was it?" She smiled. Well, at least she can still do THAT… However, Elliott could tell by its gentleness that it was not a smile meant for her; but, rather, one that was meant for him – for him to withdraw, to quit trying to console her. But Elliott refused. The nut shall be cracked, goddammit, no matter what it took! "What can i help you with?"

Elliott paused. Slowly, as if muscles had rusted over, he extended his index finger towards her direction; and he said, his speech suddenly slow and lacking any emphasis: “Yah know what, Arya?” Then, suddenly, his words became heated by pointed rage, as he continued: “Yah NEED to quit bein’ – bein’ – YAH KNOW!” He then proceeded to move his head about in a circular way, to add to the defiance. “Girl, if you want to laugh, you had better as Hell laugh! Kay? Kay! I don’t want no seriousness! Who the Hell wants that? Girl, if you wanna laugh, go on ahead and laugh! I saw that little turtle go into its shell! I don’t like it when it goes into its shell, yah know?! Cause you know why?” Then, for punctuation, he proceeded to beat his palm down upon the countertop between each word: “CAUSE I – LIKE – TURTLES – DAMMIT!” His voice proceeded to become rough and husky with impassioned emotion: “They’re freakin’ turtles! I mean, they’re all cute, yah know?! And reptilian?! And slow, kinda like sloths, only they don’t hug, cause turtles have shells, and who the Hell wants to hug a freaking shell, yah know?! And, you know what – when that turtle goes into its shell – I can’t see it anymore! And I want – to see – that turtle! I mean, who the Hell wants to see nuttin’ but a turtle shell?! That’s just gay, man! I mean, no offense to gay people, it’s just that – aw, suck it, I’m not in the mood to be PC today. Anyhoodle, that turtle – needs – to be seen! Or else…” And here, his voice became breathy with sentimentality, and he lifted a hand up to the sky, as if introducing God to all mortals. “Or else…the turtle…he won’t…he won’t have any…friends…you know…?”

Suddenly, Elliott threw down his hand, and it crashed onto the countertop with a very loud slam, succeeded by a crack of equal volume. He immediately jerked it backward, and clamped his other hand about its wrist, squeezing it tightly. He stared at Arya, his eyes and face completely blank, as if the impact had stunned him into stupidity. Then, finally, after a short pause, he said in a very slow, serious voice: “Everyone stay calm…but I think I broke it...”

Promptly, as if nothing had transpired, Elliott shrugged his broad and heavy shoulders, and continued, whilst he kept his hand wrapped lovingly about the wrist of his pained hand (whose fingers were bent like talons). “Anyhoodle, don’t be that turtle. I like it when you’re happy. So don’t be unhappy. Be happy. Go lucky. Go Lucky Stripe Today!” His face erupted into a happy, blindingly bright smile.

[Cham]

Arya just sat there stiff and still, trying to surpress the laughter she felt within her. The only sign of it was her clean plucked eyebrows raising in amusement, but could have been portrayed as annoyance.

But as his words turned angry and harsh, they lowered. Why was he so passionate that this 'turtle' have friends. That she come out of her shell. No one cared, why would this perfect stranger give half a flying... 'Thats not ladylike Arya' she thought to herself, then continued her mental rant.

He went on and on, and she found herself understanding it to a point. As she opened her mouth to ask the question 'Mr. Phycadorus, did you used to have a shell' He slammed his hand down once again. She was expecting it, as it seemed to be something he did quite often. But a crack rang about the room, and Arya's eyes widened.

"Oh my God... Elliott..." Her voice was a hushed whisper, but he kept going. She was amazed. Even after he BROKE HIS HAND, he was still lecturing her. Clearly this was something close to his heart. But at the moment that didnt matter.

With a controlled, measured voice, she spoke "Elliott, can you lay your hand flat on the counter?" Unable to resist, adding "Without slamming it this time" Amusement, and even a chuckle weaving its way out. "Dont push down, just lay it down so I can splint anything thats broken..." She moved his fingers only a smidge so they were straight, not wishing him to have to have pins surgically put in. That was painful. And so unnecessary if they could just get it right this time...

She moved to the end of the counter and into the back room, leaving it open to watch him as she rummaged around for the first aid kit. After several minutes of searching, she returned with several pens and a roll of tape. "If youll allow me, I can mostly fix this? Youll still have to go to the hospital to have it cast of course, but from the looks of your fingers" A smile cracked on her face, and she immitated his speech pattern "Dem dere fingers is cracked. Like a Man!"

What could she do but laugh?





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I fricken love your turtles yo!!!!

[Raeoki]

(ooc: I LOVE YOU MORE, THOUGH, BRO!!

Many apologies for how late this is!!!! DDDDDx

Oh, and I'd like to point out how Elli has officially gone from William Shatner to ghetto-wannabe Bill Shatner.)

BIC: It was nice to see that such a sad, unhappy lady such as Arya could step free from her melancholic chains and gasp with uttermost worry as Elliott announced that his hand was quite shattered. Nice, of course, but not exactly surprising, either; she did seem like a nice girl – a sad member of the female species, yes, but certainly not an uncaring one. Elliott could tell her by eyes, for you can always single out a congenial person by their eyes, for theirs were always clear and sparkly (at least, that was Elliott’s theory on the matter); Arya bore both of these traits, only hers were a tad special: for Elliott found that they had a very lovely blue-grey color to them, which he found very pleasing to look at.

After Elliott had ended his turtle-speech with a brief and rather vague reference to an old cigarette brand, Arya promptly dove into a new mode that Elliott had not seen before, but, because her eyes were pretty, he had rather figured without thinking that it was there, lying deep beneath the opaque depression that had so clogged her heart earlier. She requested that Elliott rest his hand flat upon the table; obediently, his lips stretched into a very wide smile that made moved his cheeks upward, directly below the eyes, and this effect somehow gave to his countenance a look of maniacal daring and pleasure. The fingers that had been curled about his wrist jerked off, freeing his hand, and then he threw his wounded appendage upward, high over his head, his elbow bending a little, and there was a glint in his eyes that suggested a self-emancipated soul that had been happily liberated by pure and holy stupidity. However, before he could straighten his elbow once again to send his smashed fingers crashing against the counter, which would have thusly furthered the damage to the bones there, Arya swiftly chuckled in addition: “Without slamming it this time"

Elliott’s body jerked and he became still, his eyes glazed and his mouth opened, as if some lazer had stunned his muscles into complete immobility. Then, gradually, his face fell, and he pursed his lips like a child that had had its toy taken from it, and the stupidly brave light in his eyes was very much dead, usurped by a gloomy self-pity. However, whilst he gently laid his palm upon the table, not daring to put any pressure upon in absolute obedience to her orders, his pout unfolded, and his mouth twitched into a soft, pleased smile, for she had chuckled – and it was very good to hear her chuckle. And he decided that once Arya was through with whatever nursing she would perform upon him, that he would look at her as well, and chuckle almost like she did, but he would not chuckle in amusement – instead, he would chuckle with triumph, for he had amused her, and to amuse a person felt to Elliott like fulfilling one’s life goal; especially for a betrayed girl like Arya, who – in the interval after the eunuch with mutated loins had left her and before she met Elliott – had only known sadness.

Her fingertips gently came in contact with the skin of his fingers, nudging them softly till they were spread out upon the table. She then left him, moving to from the counter and entering the back room. He blinked, his eyebrows lifting a little in his curiosity, and he leaned backwards to watch her, a small and intrigued frown upon his face. Soon she returned with some pens and tape and the like that Elliott thought weren’t exactly medical-ly, but he did not complain – so long as she was happy, then by golly shucks Jesus, he was happy! :DDD

Arya informed him politely, "If youll allow me, I can mostly fix this? Youll still have to go to the hospital to have it cast of course, but from the looks of your fingers" Elliott blinked twice and contorted his mouth a little at the mention of a doctor, for he did not think that doctors were very necessary – at least, for a clearly strong, healthy young fellah like Elliott, whose muscles and testosterone – when cocktailed together - could surely heal whatever ailed him. However, if she was to insist afterwards that he go to a physician, then Elliott did not think that he would object much – anything to keep her happy, after all! And, at this thought, Elliott’s frown immediately twitched and spread into a very warm, very friendly smile.

Elliott’s grin would grow as Arya’s own mouth broke into a grin, and she added: "Dem dere fingers is cracked. Like a Man!" Soon, that lovely, musical laugh was flooding from her, and though Elliott did not truly understand the joke (for he did not know that it was essentially mimicry of his own speech pattern, which Elliott was so accustomed to that he did not even know it existed), soon enough, his chortles were harmonizing with hers. His giggles were very much comparable to a Russian Czar’s giggles: he, like they had, owned a very deep, rumbly, masculine laughter that started off humbly amused, then would suddenly skyrocket into a hearty, loud, haughty laugh that boomed all about the room.

This time, though, just as Elliott had begun to laugh these loud, triumphantly amused laughs, they suddenly died, and his curving, opened mouth slammed shut and dipped into a very stern, heavy scowl, and he pulled his eyebrows together, and narrowed his eyes at Arya, as if he was about to condescend a naughty child. “I’ll only let yah…alien probe mah fingers…if – and ONLY if – you keep pumping that there laughin’ gas, Doc…Cause yah know why?” His stern countenance relaxed, and one corner of his mouth lifted up into a rather strange smile, and his eyebrows lifted, and there was a rather distant, vague, yet strangely pleased look in his eyes. His head began to bob up and down in a perpetual, slow manner, as if he were an old bobble-head, and he lifted up his unbroken hand, and he pointed it at Arya approvingly.Then, he finished, his voice having a rumbly, amusingly vague connotation, in the sense that it suggested that he was not truly one with the world somehow: “Cause DAT…LAUGH…of yours…? It’s some grooooooooooooOOOOOOooovy medicine…Doc…yeah…yeah…”

[Cham]

Arya bit her lower lip as Elliott began chortling. She enjoyed his laugh immensely, It was hearty and real. That was the best part. It filled her up and caused a blush to creep across her cheeks. Looking down she felt slightly uncomfortable. A tingling feeling beginning in her chest.

She moved to adjust the pens in between his fingers, but he pointed at her, confused, she pushed it slightly away with the palm of her hand, and grinned. Rose cascading over her cheeks once again. Why was this perfect stranger making her feel this way??? She nodded her head in agreement, rolling her eyes at the same time. "I dont think I have another choice, do I?"

A movement outside of the front door made her put on a welcoming landlady smile, mixed with her real grin. Looking up at Elliott through her lashes, and giggling softly, then moving to the side. A woman stuck her head into the door, asking if they were open. Arya told her that regrettably, gesturing to Elliott, that he was the last customer, and the store was shutting down.

She then flipped around the OPEN sign to show CLOSED to the public, and switched off several of the front lights. Sending the back lights flickering, then shining a bit brighter. She moved back behind the counter, quiet as she adjusted his hand tenderly. Fingers quick as she moved about, straightening the pens, and using them for a splint around the broken bones. Taping them up firmly, but carefully. "So are we off to the hospital then?" She asked softly, stressing the WE to see if he would shun her away. She found herself yearning to be closer to him. Wanting to be around him as much as humanly possible. He made her laugh and smile which she hadnt done since...

Leo's grin flashed through her mind, and she felt her blood run cold. Feeling herself pale as memories flooded her. "I uhm..." Had he said something? "Sorry, what was that?" She whispered, looking childlike up at him.

[Raeoki]

The blood kept rising higher in her cheeks, making them go from a healthy whitish color to a ruddier, redder shade that reminded Elliott of roses. He didn’t really understand why her blood was swelling; to be honest, it was all very strange, why someone’s blood would swell like that, especially about the face. But, for some reason, it was almost rather cute, at least, on Arya; as if someone had planted thousands of minute roses into her cheeks, and Elliott was now looking down on a very small, but also very scarlet garden that could only be found on Arya Devon’s countenance. Elliott liked that very much; it almost suited her, he thought, that she should have a tiny garden on her face. Boy by golly by gee – I’d sure love to water that garden…

A woman stepped in, asking if the store was still open; Arya, in a very ladylike sort of way, replied in the negative, and by doing so kindly dismissing the woman, who only responded by stepping outside. Arya left Elliott for a few seconds; Elliott didn’t notice: to him, Arya’s rose garden was still very much in front of his eyes, and his mind began to wander off, becoming as blissful and as silly and as fantastical a child’s imagination, for he found himself imagining himself as Arya’s face-gardener, pruning the rose gardens and fertilizing them and watering them. And he thought that Arya would pay him a great sum of money for his work, for he would take the greatest precautions to keep her face-garden alive and well and always very beautiful.

Arya returned; Elliott was aware of a dull, but still rather biting pain in his bones as she adjusted his fingers and taped them up, but Elliott was too manly and too pleased with his face-gardening to care. (Men don’t feel pain, anyway.) Arya’s clear voice yanked him away from his face-gardening fantasies, however (not that he minded, of course). "So are we off to the hospital then?"

He didn’t think anything about the exaggeration of the word “we”. Instead, he was more concerned about this hospital and doctor business; it rather made him cringe, really, to think about going to a doctor’s office. It was an abasement of his manhood, to seek help for only a minor injury as a broken hand; but yet – but yet…Arya seemed so earnest for him to get a move on…But still! His manliness! Elliott wrinkled his nose, and he lowered his eyes from Arya’s face-garden, permitting his gaze to become fixated on the countertop. He moved back a little away from her, as if to give him room for thinking (which may or may not have been necessary, as thinking was certainly not one of his talents), and he stretched a corner of his mouth across his face. Elliott really didn’t want to go to a doctor…to be honest, he really didn’t need to see one (at least, in his opinion, he didn’t)…but Arya…but Arya…

Elliott’s forest green eyes flickered back to Arya’s face-garden. She seemed so worried about him – about such a minor injury as a freaking broken hand affecting him…And she had made it sound as if they were going as a package. So – perhaps he ought to yield to her…He accepted this with very little emotional struggle and thought; promptly, his stretched mouth curled into a soft grin, and he shrugged his husky shoulders. “Whatever yah say, Doc!” he declared, his voice resonating heartily.

"I uhm..." she began, but then faltered; she then looked up at him with wide, innocent, swimmable eyes – eyes that immediately locked onto Elliott’s, eyes that immediately yanked his body a little forward with their prettiness, with their purity, and he did not bother to fight them; he merely looked on at them, silently, obediently, as if she had commanded him to look at her. "Sorry, what was that?"she added in a soft little whisper.

Again – though it was completely unintentional by Arya – Elliott felt strangely commanded by her, to be in service to her, to follow her about as a duckling follows its mother. He didn’t understand it, nor did he bother to; he rather liked this feeling of servitude, though he didn’t understand it, and for some reason, it made him like her all the more. This sensation that he had a duty to attend her and pay attention to her was greatly compounded by his overwhelming testosterone, and there was a strange urgency in this duty, one that required only the greatest of might and heroism – and it was the same sort of duty that a soldier feels to his country on the warfront. This duty took hold of his muscles, made him lift his broken hand off the table very gingerly (for he did not want to ruin Arya’s grand handy work), and set the unbroken upon it; he heaved himself upwards, into the air, over the counter, and his feet landed spryly on the floor, and his body was now on the other side of the counter, directly beside Arya. He swung around to face her, and he placed the hand that he had set on the counter atop his hip, and he said, in a very heroic, manly, Czar-like way: “‘Whatever yah say, Doc!’ That’s what I says! And now…” Elliott ducked down, and in the blink of an eye, he snatched up Arya, so that the back of her knees and her shoulder blades rested upon the crooks of his arms, and he held her in a gentle, but also relaxed way, as if she weighed as much as a pillow, and he had no fear of dropping her.

He did not look at her face-garden whilst he held her. “To the hospital! Hi-ho Silver - awaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!” Elliott proceeded to bound around the counter and towards the doorway, a rather goofy grin and a stupidly delighted glimmer in his eyes; however, both glimmer and grin diminished when he reached the door, and he came to a sudden halt, and his head jerked backwards slightly, as if he had just remembered something. His head snapped around so he could peer at her, and he asked: “But – uh – what were you…about to…saaaay?”

[Cham]

Arya felt, more than saw Elliott move towards her. Her eyes were preoccupied. Locked onto his. Just that one glance and everything Leo related was gone. He had evaporated from her mind, and it was as though Elliott sunk an anchor into the blue sea of her eyes.

She nearly returned the gesture of leaning forward when he leaped, or sailed, over the counter top. She almost jumped back, but was basically used to it. In fact, she stepped forward, but was in fact, taken aback, er... or up when he swooped down and scooped her into his arms "OH MY GOD!" She shreiked Her arms flying to clench around his neck, pulling herself up and on him. "Im way too heavy for you, I dont want to hurt you!" she nearly wined. But he didnt seem to hear her.

But when they stopped at the door and she jerked into him. He seemed confused "I said im too heavy for you" Shaking her head and squirming a little to have him set her down. But he only clenched tighter it seemed. "Please... Im too heavy..."

[Raeoki]

He felt her body tap gently against his chest as he stopped; it was only a slight little nudge that barely brushed against his shirt, but somehow, Elliott found it strangely stimulating for his mind. He began to notice and feel things that his dull mind had found irrelevant: Arya’s arms entwined around his neck and how her sleeves caressed it briefly in the nudge’s motion; the fact that he bore her in his arms also began to pique his intrigue as well, though it had seemed perfectly natural to him when he had scooped her up; and he noticed that, as Arya began to wiggle in his arms, that he rather liked the feeling of her body moving as he held her – he didn’t truly understand it, nor did he bother to: the simple fact that he enjoyed it was good enough for him.

"I said im too heavy for you" she said, in response to his query. It was then that the stimulation of his mind opened his eyes, and he could see that there was some sort of…sort of…sort of…emotion…or whatever…playing on Arya’s face. Elliott really didn’t know what to call it, but surely it was not one of positivity. "Please... Im too heavy..."

Promptly, Elliott forgot about the stimulation and the sensations and noticing of emotions on Arya’s face-garden; because Arya was in a state of worry, and it went against Elliott’s religion to permit someone – especially Arya – worry, especially over himself. Currently, all of the aforementioned sensations he had noticed beforehand were not pertinent; when Arya became relaxed again, he might permit himself to relish them again – if he could remember too, of course (which he most likely won’t). “Aw…shucks…Arya!” he said in a snicker; his lips pulled themselves upward into a goofy, thin grin, where his front teeth protruded in a rather stupid way, and his eyeballs rolled upward, making him look very derpy. “You’re nothing but a little old pillow…filled with cotton and marshmallows dat were scooped out from kitten sneezes on a warm day in December! Shit, I betya yer so damn thin that I could carry a thousand and a hundred times two hundred and a thousand quadruple million gadzookian Aryas for five thousand six hundred and ninety-five miles!” His heart became tickled with amusement had his consolation, and he snickered in a very goofy manner. “Hurrhurr – that made me sound all shmart ‘n’ stuff.”

Then, before she could respond, he swung his leg upward, and slammed his foot against the door; the door swung open beneath the weight of his foot, and he lowered his leg, and there was a small, blank smile on his face as he did this, as if he was quite used to kicking open doors. He proceeded to bound out of the store, with Arya pressed to his arms, and it did not occur to him as he went that he ought to turn around and let Arya lock the door to her store. Instead, Elliott puckered his lips, and began to whistle the happy tune of the song that had been playing in his mind when he had stepped into the shop, and now that he had stepped out of it, the lyrics began to weave through his mind again.

STOP!
Cause I really love you;
STOP!
I’ve been thinkin’ of you.
Look in my heart and let LOVE,
Keep us togethah~~~~~.

Suddenly, he stopped, in both whistle and motion. His feet became firmly planted into the ground; he lurched forward slightly, his chest pressing against Arya for a moment, before it then swung backward. Elliott stared ahead of him, his eyes wide and round and glazed over with stupidity, and his mouth was a small, curving frown. For it had then occurred to him that he really didn’t know where the location of any doctors in District 4 – he had never felt the need to; to him, doctors were only for the people who weren’t as masculine as he was, who didn’t have the testosterone margin needed for the body to heal itself on its own accord. Thus, in his life, except for the annual checkup during his wimpy years as a child, doctors were nigh nonexistent. Elliott’s eyes flickered down at Arya’s face, and the corners of his frown pulled further downward; for he then realized that he was in quite the crisis, not knowing where any doctors were, nor really feeling that he truly needed one to heal his hand, but being urged ever onward by the sweet little lady in his arms. He wriggled his mouth around thoughtfully, and lifted a brow slightly; then, suddenly, it sprang into his mind that the only choice he had for this matter was to go to the very person who was driving him on this quest for a physician for the answers. “Okay – ooookay – Arya? Yah know – uh….are yah…exactly sure dere’s a doctor in District Four? Cause…uh…I…don’t know where tah go at the mo…yah see…”

[Cham]

What could Arya do but laugh?! Elliott was just plain funny. And clever... And sweet... She found herself looking up at him with a dorky grin, biting her lower lip slowly. But the crash of the front doors opening brought her back to herself. Although she wouldve been perfectly happy gazing at his lovely... Handsome... Adorable face...

What in the world was going on with her???

The song he began to whistle was one not commonly known about the district, but if you were lucky enough to have a radio playing, and caught a few of the Capitol stations, then you wouldve known it. Arya began to sing the words softly as he whistled the tune. Her soft melodic voice weaving into his deeper, dulcet tones.

"STOP!
Cause I really love you;
STOP!
I’ve been thinkin’ of you.
Look in my heart and let LOVE,
Keep us togethah"

Suddenly she lurched forward. Grasping onto Elliott's shirt and neck, holding him close to her for fear of him dropping her right there. But a frown came to her face, and Arya found she didnt like it. Not even noticing it, her hand rose of its own accord. Tracing tenderly the outline of his lips. Like wisps along his skin. What it would be like to press her own lips against them...

But he spoke, and her hand dropped to where it had been before. "Well, if you go two blocks straight, turn left, and go for another four blocks. Then you will reach the hospital. Its fairly new. Only a few years old."




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Dont hate me for stealin yo song. I couldnt think of nothin else XD

[Raeoki]

Distracting distractions almost made Elliott forget Arya's fingers. And voice. And the fact that she was his baby, in the sense that he rather held her like one, thus provoking a slightly altered version of a mother's protective instincts and possessiveness over their children. Fortunately, Elliott managed to remember that fingers soft and smooth, and that voices were pretty and sweet and soprano, and that babies can be around his age when in special circumstances. And he remembered these all with fondness, and gave Arya a small, awkward pat with his good hand.

"Right, right, right...," mumbled Elliott thoughtfully, once Arya delivered the directions. "Too two to the hospital." Thus, he went TO the hospital, though he thought that TWO blocks was TOO long. After all, if hospitals absolutely HAD to exist, they ought to be rather like stalkers, in the sense that they followed people around so they could swoop in when the fellow was hurt. But that was just Elliott's opinion, and an opinion alone, not a personal sentiment. Besides, for his own case, Elliott was quite glad that hospitals did not stalk people, for then he would not get any exercise from this little walk of theirs.

"Two plus two equals," Elliott babbled on, to fill in the pucker of silence that threatened to root itself into the present interaction between the two District 4 residents. "Two plus two equals..." He paused, and then pouted in sudden, dumb-striking befuddlement, as is his mind had slipped and was now wallowing in the mud. "Five...?" His voice was a quake of tentativeness. Then, his face flickered into a smooth, casual grin, and a warm green eye winked at Arya. "Lulz, I kid. I know the answer's three."

To the left, to the left...

Now for four blocks to ford in a forge...

"Anyhoodle!" Elliott's voice was as quick and joyful as a rabbit's little footstep. "So you know dat dere song I was singin' earlier, huh?"

(Ooc: Ugh! This one's despicably short...I'm so sorry...also, SEVERAL apologies for making you wait!)

[Cham]

A somewhat dreamy look came over Elliott's face, and Arya couldnt help but to allow her fingers of one hand to weave into his hair. He looked relaxed and somewhat calm. She lay her head on his shoulder and breathed slowly, a small yawn stretching her mouth open and crinkling her nose.

He spoke softly, and Arya nodded slowly. His rythmic stride lulling her body to relax and melt in his arms. The warmth that radiated from his body was like none other. Her fingers continued their leisurely way across his skin, strange patterns coming out.

Grinning softly, she let her lips brush against the skin of his neck as she whispered "Sweetheart two plus two is four." giggling a little before puckering her lips and pressing them to his neck. A soft smile being hid in his shoulder as he strode down the street.

There was a moment of silence before he seemed to change the subject. He was so bouncy and light. "Of course. It is so overplayed on the capitol radio. We get a few channels at the store and uhm... My boss liked to play it over and over..."


________________________________________________________________________________________

So the real Elliott finally kissed me tonight!!!!

>.> On the cheek.

[Raeoki]

As Arya's fingers stroked Elliott's face and hair, he did not receive it as acts of affection, though the almost sleazily relaxed grin that slouched on his face might have stated otherwise. No; rather, he took the feeling of Arya's tender fingertips as sensations of triumph - sort of like his Russian Czar laugh, only that goes under the category of expressions of triumph. For the fact that Arya was so willing to prod his head must have been a sign that she was feeling better - that her tromped and spited spirits were, at last, perking, so that now she could display affection. Why she said to herself, "You know what, Elliott's a pretty swell guy - I'm gonna touch his face!" was a question that begot mystery in Elliott's confuzzled brain, but he liked the little tingle in his heart that excited him every time she touched him, and he also enjoyed the triumphant fact that he had managed to drag out her more affectionate side, so he did not bother to complain.

He felt something quite soft and quite warm - like a pair of lips - brush against the side of his neck. The sensation of plushiness was sudden, and it swooped away as suddenly as it came, whilst Arya tucked her face into his shoulder. Goodness gracious, thingy went faster than a zebra after a polkadot! he thought, marvelling at the speed of the plushy thing that had the gall to prod the masculinity of his well-toned neck. His gaze dashed all around, never flickering to Arya (oddly enough), until finally his eyes hit the sky. He acknowledged the clouds that now clotted the sky - the mass of clouds that looked like a dark grey fleece blanket that was speckled by dust - and, by a brilliant exploit into the realm of deductive reasoning, he decided upon the answer to his mystery: Damn fine idea of...Arya's...to hide her...face like that...Looks like the sky's gonna sweat, goodness me!

"Of course." Arya's voice zapped his attention back to her. "It is so overplayed on the capitol radio. We get a few channels at the store and uhm... My boss liked to play it over and over..."

Wait - radio? Wut? Wut were we talkin' about it? Elliott wondered as his eyes darted down to her face, and promptly became a pair of blank marbles. Then, like a superhero swooping down into the scene of an ongoing crime just as he was called upon, the lyrics of the song of ultimate romance swooped into his mind.

STOP!
Cause I really love you;
STOP!
I’ve been thinkin’ of you.
Look in my heart and let LOVE,
Keep us togethah~~~~~.

"OOooooooooooooooh yeaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Elliott proclaimed as his marble-like eyes suddenly became a pair of light-bulbs. His head then proceeded to nod up and down, with the same understanding and eagerness of a bobble-head. "Well, well! That's swell, swell! Nice tah hear that I'm not the only connoisseur of good taste in this district!" he added, his voice relapsing back into a state of smooth, suave creaminess - the same voice he had used when he had smoked his pseudo-pipe. He nodded again, this time curtly, and gave her a very aristocratic wink.

Then, as suddenly as an act of God, his toe met with a pucker in the aged sidewalk - and, like an act of Satan, all Hell broke loose.

As it turns out, Hell comes in dominoes - one by one, event after event, cause after cause, effect after effect. Such was the case in this breaking of Hell: with the meeting of his toe against ragged cement, came the leaning of his body unsteadily into oblivion; with the leaning came the sudden and rather unceremonious dropping of the fair maid Arya onto the concrete; with the dropping of the fair maid came a brassy and rather epic scream from Elliott ("NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"), as well as the provision of another thing for Elliott to trip over, which, obviously, was Arya's prostrate body; with the provision of another thing for Elliott to trip over, he then tripped over that, as well; he staggered forward, and - not thinking (as usual) he tossed his broken hand forward; his snapped fingers then came in contact with a glass door that Elliott had not been aware of before (as he had not paid attention). His broken fingers rammed against the glass, but pushing it open at the same time, so that their master fell across the threshold rather than into the glass of the doorway. Completely oblivious to any added pain that one would have thought would be customary to forceful contact of broken bone against hard surface, Elliott planted the palm of his good hand against the floor and lifted himself up, then looked around himself. He found that he had rocketed himself into a lobby of sorts, and across the room stood a counter, and at the counter stood a surprised but sweet-looking young woman in nurse's garb. Immediately upon seeing her, his face brightened, as if his entrance could not warrant any form of embarrassment or apology, and he turned his head to look behind his shoulder, and cried jovially: "Hey, Arya, I found dat dere hospital!"