fandomhighdorms | Late Late Late at night. 2nd Floor Common Room.

Current Mood: Awake
Current Music: TV Junk

Late Late Late at night. 2nd Floor Common Room.

Marty stumbled out of room 212 after unsuccessfully trying the meditation techniques that Brenda Chenowith had given him. He knew why it wasn't working. He should have gone to the ceremony tonight.

He decides the best kind of meditation involves a remote control and a TV set with cable.

He plops down in front of the TV and tries to find something decent on.

((Preplayed with Drusilla))

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There it was. Quiet doorway. Silent room. Loud mind, racing and chasing and spinning in circles until they all fell down.

"Such a tired one," said Drusilla softly. She stood in the doorway to the common room. "Too much going on to sleep?"

Startled, Marty flinches at the creepy voice coming from the doorway. He moves into a standing position on the other side of the room.

"Uh... yeah. Something like that."

"Great. This is how it ends. I'm going to be fed to a giant squid," he thinks.

Drusilla smiles at Marty, her eyes tracking his movement across the room.

"I don't think it's going to end like that at all," says Drusilla. Her gaze rests on the TV screen before she looks back at Marty.

Marty blinks. "Did she just say...? No... Not another one," Marty thinks.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"What do you think?" asked Drusilla. "The pretty pictures I'm seeing bode ill." Thoughts crowding her, bringing her closer to him, just a few steps nearer.

Marty's eyes flicker to the TV where they are doing a demonstration of the Food saver.

"Well the enlarging of the marshmallows is just showing how the lack of air pressure makes them grow." Mary says moving slightly to keep the couch between himself and Drusilla.

Drusilla's smile grows wide and eager as she stares at the marshmallows. She looks back at Marty and tilts her head. "It shan't end prettily." She leaned forward and looked deep into Marty's eyes. "At the end, it goes pop--" She brought her hands up in fists and flung her fingers out, then let them fall back down to her sides. "--and everything's gone."

An uncontrollable chill crept down Marty's spine, but he tried not to show it. "What are you talkin about?"

"Popcorn." his brain screamed. "Jesus, when am I going to get rid of that phrase?" he thought.

Drusilla's eyes gleamed triumphantly and her low, soft laughter filled the room. "Do you ever wish to know what I want to snack upon? Salty, or sticky-sweet, with kernels dancing upon the stovetop."

"Pop-pop-CRACK--" Drusilla clapped her hands together once. "And pop again."

"Can't save 'em all, Marty."

"Hell, you can't save any of them."

Marty shook his head, as though it would clear it.

"Right," Marty says weakly. "Popcorn."

Drusilla's smile was gloating when she saw Marty shudder. "You should think before snack time," she said. "Perhaps you weren't meant to be in the kitchen in the first place. So very soft."

A scowl began to cross Marty's face. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" asked Drusilla. "Will you buy me a Christmas present? We can string garlands about the room."

Marty thought he had dealt with some batshit people before, but this lunatic truthfully takes the proverbial cake.

"I can see why you teach abnormal psychology. You're obviously an expert."

"Don't you want to know?" Drusilla's look was sanguine. "The words float float like little bubbles through the air. Did you want to save her?"

"Save... save who?"

"Don't you know?" Her expression was triumphant. "You gave her a saucer of cream before you said good night." The light from the television cast shadows that flickered and played over Drusilla's face.

"What... what do you know about that night?"

"Why should I tell you?" asked Drusilla. "Why do you want to know?"

Marty can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"You're the mind reading freak! What do you think?! You're the one dropping hints left and right about what happened that night! So are you going to tell me or should I just pop open a fortune cookie because you are starting to sound the same."

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter. Frantic hearts beating in their little cages.

"For shame," says Drusilla. "Losing your temper never brings the kitty-cats swarming to your door. Not that the kitties will be coming to you ever again. You hurt them too badly."

"I... I hurt..." Marty can't finish the sentence. He shivers and he can sense a faint metallic taste growing in his mouth.

Drusilla started singing softly. "All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel." Her voice was soothing, and low. "The monkey thought it was all in fun, when--" Suddenly she was sharp and alert, and brought her hands together in a clap that echoed through the room. "--pop goes the weasel."

"You hurt the kitty cat, and now her poor little mouse is all alone."

Marty just stared at Drusilla as his brain silently imploded.

He closes his eyes to try and clear his head but all he sees are images. Bad images.

And all he hears is that noise.

"Fuck."

Drusilla backed up towards the doorway, a pleased smile on her face. "Sleep well," she said triumphantly, one hand braced on either side of the door frame. "And sweet dreams."

Then she was gone.

Marty stared. His heart was still pounding and his shirt was suddenly soaked with perspiration.

He slowly sat back down on the couch his mind racing from one thought to the next.

The TV blared at him and he paid no attention to it.

"What have I done?

John flops on the couch nearest Marty (say, at a right angle to Marty's couch, cuz sitting on the same couch would be TEH GHEY and John's not like that, swear) and gives him the hairy eyeball.

"You're that interested in the Bread Breezer 2000? Man. You must love toast more'n that other guy."

Marty barely notice John until he spoke.

"What?"

Marty looks at the TV and the Bread Breezer.

"Oh. Yeah. Not really. Nothing's... on."

Marty tosses the remote to John. "You're welcome to find... whatever."

John started flipping through the channels.

"You okay, dude? YOu're all pale and sweaty. Flu? Something happen?"

"Just..."

Marty shivered.

"Just had a little conversation with our Psych professor."

"Was that who that was? Man, I've heard stories. You in her class?"

Marty leans back and closes his eyes. Bad mistake. He quickly sits up.

"No. She decided to drop by and do her own private analysis on me."

"Oh. That sounds good, private attention and all."

He peers more closely at Marty.

"Or it could be something that's a very not good thing? What'd she say, if you don't mind me asking?"

Marty shivered.

"Trust me. It wasn't good. Not at all. It's about that girl who was killed and... what I think my involvement in it might be."

(OOC: Going to bed. will pick up tomorrow.)

"I see. Your... involvement, you say?"

John adjusted in the sofa, the better to defend or run away.

((sounds good))

"She thinks I did it." Marty says in a dead tone of voice.

"And did you?" John's tone of voice was as dead as ~~Kitty's~~ Marty's.

"That's the big question isn't it?"

Marty stares at the tv for a long period of time.

"The scary part is? I don't even know if it's true or not."

John waited what he felt was a reasonable time before responding.

"How could you not know?"

"All I know is that I went for a walk with Rory and the next thing I know I woke up at Chaucer's. I... I don't remember a damn thing."

"So what the hell happened? Do you usually black out? Something you ate? Something you didn't? What does Rory have to say?"

Gently, John, probe, don't bludgeon.

Just that she saw me running out of the alley where Kitty was supposedly killed. Apparently I was out of my mind, shouting and just acting crazy.

"So either something happened to you externally or internally. Are you prone to frequent bursts of shouting and acting crazy?"

"So Rory just saw the supposed aftermath."

"I'm not sure... I don't know what happened. Based on what Rory said and... well some of the dreams I've had I'm wondering if I was hit by some of that fear gas that was released at Spikes not too long ago.

"Fear gas? I've heard of it, but not what it does."

Could this be what Angelus was talking about?

((this a private mindfuck or can anyone join?))

Feel free to come by afterwards. Marty's mind is Jello.

((lemme know when Marty's brain has set and the fruit is ready. John'll bring the spoon.))

((Jump in. Bring the spoon. It'll be short though unless you want to slow play.))

((slow play or short, whichever works. Just John checking out Marty for his (and Angelus'ses's) information))

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Late Late Late at night. 2nd Floor Common Room.

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OOC

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