bigapplesauce | HANDYSPLOSION [open to multiple]

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HANDYSPLOSION [open to multiple]

Andrew is snooping, but he's not getting very far with it. The trouble with absurdly powerful, government-sanctioned entities is that getting inside the base of such an organization tends to be a bit more complicated than showing up with a forged Health and Safety ID card. Of course, he could probably get inside very easily if he simply went up to the front doors and announced himself, but somehow he doubts he'd be likely to come back out without making a grand production of escaping, and he doesn't want to be too late coming home and make James worry.

The other trouble with Romac is that they're too smart to have anything interesting going on outside. After quite a bit of loitering -- more loitering than is probably wise -- all Andrew's seen is fairly ordinary people going in and out of the building. Disgruntled at their failure to be even the least bit interesting, Andrew finally gives up in disgust and decides to walk to the rebel base in order to say hello to a few people and use their private library.

He makes it less than halfway to the park before disaster strikes. Later, Handrew will be mortally embarrassed that the crisis didn't come about because some Romac agent spotted him and decided to make trouble, or because he had to run to intercept an alien, or even because someone got it in their head to mug him. No, this disaster occurs simply because neither Andrew nor a certain speeding taxi driver happens to be looking in the right direction at the right time. As the meta-crisis steps out into the intersection of Lexington and 59th (against right of way, if he'd bothered to notice), there's a deafening screech, an impact, and Andrew quite unexpectedly shatters.

The reflex to use his power when surprised likely saves his life. Twelve tiny Andrews are scattered across the road a moment later, all of them stunned to one degree or another. As they recover and realize what's happened -- and hear the yells of a few people who saw -- they all take the same course of action:

Run.

Unfortunately, very few of them run in the same direction. There's no plan or pattern to it, and very quickly the Andrews scatter to the four winds -- or at least to the four corners of the intersection. There are a few shouts (even New Yorkers tend to notice when someone explodes next to them) and one person even stoops and tries to grab one of the four-inch-tall Andrews, but he has quite a bit of experience in running for cover.

[OOC: Let me know where you want to encounter one or more Andrews, and I will write up an explanation of how he got there. The accident occurred at E. 59th St. and Lexington Ave. (the game map might help you here), and the Andrews have gone in every direction. Some Andrews will take advantage of the nearby subway entrances; depending where he enters he could do as he intends and go northwest, or he could get on the wrong train and go northeast, which would take him past Romac housing. Really, anything is possible -- though he's trying to get to either the Rebels or the TARDIS, he could get lost in any direction, or stay stranded near the intersection. Just write a tag indicating where your character encounters an Andrew and I'll work it out (or you can PM me or ping me on AIM if you want to hammer it out together). He'll be staying in twelfths, since merging into sixths would make him a foot and a half high, meaning he'd be still too small to get around without trouble but too big to go unnoticed. There might be multiple Andrews traveling together, so let me know if you want two of them.]

UPDATE, November 14: Nine Andrews are accounted for so far. One Andrew each currently reserved for Lucy, Spike, and Topher, meaning no more Andrews are available.

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Edgar feels a surge of pity at the man's words. Whatever landed him in his current state, the man is clearly scared. Eager to assuage at least one of the man's concerns, Edgar lays a hand on Almondine's head. When she looks his way, he signs for her to move back. She hesitates for a moment but does as he asks, scooting back about five feet and lying down again to stare under the bush.

Edgar flattens himself to the ground beside her, the better to see under the bush himself. Then he ponders the best way to attempt to communicate. The man is obviously from the rift - no "normal" person would ever be so small - and clearly needs help, so Edgar decides to try a direct approach.

Carefully, he extends one hand under the bush so that his fingertips are just a few millimeters away from the man, and then rests it, palm down, on the ground there. He holds the man's eyes and smiles, hoping that will keep him calm for what comes next.

Then, very slowly and gently, Edgar reaches forward so that the tip of one finger makes contact with the man's hand. With the contact, he thinks at the man.

I'm Edgar. I'm not going to hurt you. My dog is Almondine; she won't hurt you, either. We came through the rift, too. What's your name?

Andrew watches, thinking he ought to do something about all this but feeling like his entire body and brain have been slowed down to a crawl. He lays there on the cold ground, staring at the boy's hand as it comes nearer -- is he going to pick Andrew up? It'll hurt if he picks him up -- and when it's almost upon him he makes a brief, convulsive effort to sit up and drag himself away again. His arms and legs don't want to obey, though, and he flops back down in defeat before he's even come close to getting up. When the touch comes, it's gentler than he expects...but the voice that comes with him gives him a jolt.

"Donna?" he asks, severely confused. No, Edgar. She'd said -- he'd said -- Edgar. As Donna.

Edgar smiles apologetically. I'm sorry if I sound like someone you know. That's what usually happens at first. I'm mute, he adds by way of explanation. The rift made it so that I can talk to people telepathically, so long as I'm touching them.

And now he's talking to himself -- no, the Doctor, it's the Doctor. But no. Andrew furrows his brow, struggling to concentrate and understand what ~~the Doctor~~ Edgar is telling him. It's like he can get one part of it at a time, but as soon as he tries to connect the next bit he loses the first.

"...Andrew," he says after a few moments, giving up on it for the moment and just going with it. "I'm Andrew."

Edgar can tell the man - Andrew - is having difficulty understanding him, and he eyes the bloody mess that is Andrew's head. There are a million questions surging through his mind, but he makes himself focus on the most pressing ones.

How badly are you hurt? he asks slowly. Can you move?

Edgar glances over his shoulder, back toward the path and the open quad. So far it doesn't appear that he's drawn any attention, but it won't be long before the sight of a boy flat on his stomach, one hand under a bush, gets noticed. If Andrew can get out from the bush, Edgar's sure he can sufficiently shield him from anyone's view long enough for them to talk.

He moved earlier...he thinks. How he got here and why he's bleeding he doesn't know, but he remembers the cat. "I think so," he says, trying again to shift upright. Moving more slowly now, he manages to sit up, losing contact with Edgar's hand without thinking about it. "Did you see what happened?" he asks.

Edgar watches Andrew, assessing his injuries by the way he moves. It doesn't appear that anything is broken, which is good, but it's clear that he's still in a lot of pain.

Edgar shakes his head in response to the question, but can't comment further as Andrew's movement broke their contact. He contemplates crawling closer to the bush and extending his arm further to reach Andrew again, but the way Andrew has shifted doesn't leave any part of him easily accessible. Wary of exacerbating Andrew's injuries, Edgar stays still instead.

If Andrew extends his arm, he can easily lay his hand on top of one of Edgar's fingers, which would be much easier (and safer) than Edgar trying to regain contact. So Edgar stares at Andrew, hoping to catch his eye.

"I can't remember..." says Andrew to himself, severely bothered by the gap in his memory. "I was going to the TARDIS, and then...."

Going to the TARDIS, somewhere in the Park -- maybe -- and now he's under a bush and everything hurts. He furrows his brow at the boy. "You didn't see?" Frown. "I just...did I just say that?"

It's probably a good sign that he's at least aware he's asked the same question twice. There's an awkwardly long pause, though, in which it takes him longer than it really should to work out why Edgar's not talking to him anymore. Donna-voice. Mute. He reaches out and touches Edgar's hand.

Edgar gives a little smile as Andrew reaches over to his hand. It's good that Andrew is aware that he has repeated himself, and that he relatively quickly realizes why Edgar isn't responding. Still, it's worrying that he doesn't remember how he got in his current state.

Sorry, I didn't see anything. Edgar pauses. Except for the cat? he suggests, suddenly concerned that Andrew's injuries might be as a result of the cat. Did the cat attack you?

Andrew furrows his brow in confusion at the question. "It...tried," he says slowly, parsing out the memory. Cat pawing at him, check. Fleeing from cat, check. Cat actually hitting him? File not found.

"I've hit my head," he concludes suddenly.

You do look like you're bleeding pretty badly, Edgar says, eying Andrew's head wound.

He throws a quick glance back over his shoulder. He has no idea if it's a good idea for Andrew to move, but needs must. D'you think you can make it out from under the bush? he asks. I'll be able to see your injuries better that way. And I'm worried someone may get curious as to why I'm lying here with my hand under a bush.

"No, but it explains a lot," says Andrew earnestly, convinced Edgar isn't giving the discovery the gravity it deserves. Clearly the boy could not have guessed, and Andrew has enlightened him, and why isn't he leaping up and shouting 'of course!'?

Frowning, he considers the question. Can he get out from under the bush? Well, he got himself under here (though he doesn't remember how), so that must be a sign. Andrew nods and draws his legs under him, breaking contact again as he stands up more quickly than he probably should. He teeters for a moment or two, then totters in Edgar's direction. To his credit, Andrew makes it to the edge of the bush before his unsteady weaving turns into toppling over on his face.

Edgar's pleased when Andrew makes it out into the open - at the least it demonstrates that nothing appears to be broken. He can see Andrew toppling, but isn't sure whether he should risk trying to catch him or not. Before he can make up his mind, Andrew's already hit the ground.

Quickly and carefully, Edgar hauls himself up to sit cross-legged by the bushes. They thankfully form a kind of curve that hides the majority of the area from view, and by angling his body the right way, Edgar can mostly block the view from behind him.

He signs to Almondine, who slowly belly crawls the few feet over to lie beside his knee, covering the rest of the space from view. If anyone where to glance their way, it would just look like a boy and his dog taking advantage of the shade the bushes provide.

Confident they won't be noticed, Edgar leans over a little and lays his hand on the ground beside the fallen Andrew. He's afraid he might hurt Andrew by touching him, so he waits, frowning in concern, for the man to right himself and initiate contact again.

Andrew can see the fall coming, but he's so unsteady on his feet that it's really a surprise it didn't happen sooner. It's like trying to walk on a spinning funhouse floor...or like being exceptionally drunk. He lets out a grunt of pain as he lands on a tiny protrusion of earth that feels like a jagged spire hitting him in the gut, and lays there for a second or two before he hears Edgar shuffling around and turns his head to look, suddenly fearful of being accidentally squashed by the human boy.

When he's not -- and when Edgar puts a hand beside him again -- Andrew lets out a little sigh and flops a hand in the direction of Edgar's finger. "I need the TARDIS," he says, making contact.

Okay. Edgar pauses. What's the TARDIS? Or who?

He doesn't know?

Andrew frowns deeply. He doesn't know. "Big blue box," he clarifies. "She'll be able to find me for me."

Edgar has no idea what any of that means and is, if possible, more confused than ever. But he can tell that Andrew is still a little fuzzy himself, so he bites down all the clarifying questions he wants to ask. There's no sense complicating things unless it's absolutely necessary.

Trying to keep things as simple and straightforward as he can, he adopts Andrew's descriptive terms.

Do you know where she is?

"In the Ramble." Andrew's reply this time is actually to the point and accurate, though not exactly precise. "You can't miss her, except you can because she's got a perception filter."

I know where that is. Edgar feels a little silly to be so pleased, but he finally knows something, which makes him feel much more helpful.

He frowns a little as he contemplates the problem of transport.

I can carry you there, he tells Andrew. We just have to figure out a way for me to carry you without hurting you.

"I'm alright," says Andrew immediately. He's not even sure whether it's a lie; he knows something is terribly wrong with him by the way he can't stay on his feet (the blood everywhere might be a hint as well), but it doesn't register just how bad he really looks right now. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

Really? Edgar asks sardonically. 'Cause you can't stay on your feet and you looking like you've been mauled.

Almondine gives a little huff beside him, and he absentmindedly runs his free hand over her head.

Besides, you just said that you need the TARDIS. And even if you weren't hurt, the park is seventeen blocks from here; it would take you a long time to get back.

Andrew squints at Edgar, suddenly confused -- or more confused, at any rate. "Where are we?" he asks, sounding a bit upset now. He'd thought they must be quite near the Ramble -- he's been walking so long. Hasn't he? None of it makes sense right now.

Edgar frowns, worried all over again. He's seen head injuries before, and knows enough to be concerned. You're in the park beside the New York Public Library, he says. Where did you think you were?

"In the park," mutters Andrew, though whether he's answering the question or just repeating what he's been told is unclear. He tries again to get up, and manages to flop into a seated position and stay that way as he reaches out to touch Edgar's hand again. "Can you carry me?"

Edgar bites back a smile at the request. Sure.

He weighs his options. While Andrew is small, Edgar doubts he could keep him hidden just by holding him in his hands. He eyes his bag, but discards it as an option. Even without being filled with books, it would be a dark, bumpy, airless ride. And Andrew isn't up to much more than sitting, so they have to find a way to keep him safe and secure during the journey.

What about the pouch on the front of my sweatshirt? Edgar asks. You could sit in my hand, and I could just lay my hand inside the pouch. You'd still get air that way, and you could even see out the other side.

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