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'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.

Andrew's not even thinking of staying hidden. He's imagining just flopping onto Edgar's hand and being lifted up and then being there. The suggestion of the pocket, therefore, is not entirely welcome...but even in his addled state, he can see the wisdom of it, at least after a moment or two of frowning like he's got a bad taste in his mouth. He nods his acquiescence.

"I'm not normally like this," he says, worried what Edgar must think of him and his tendency to go about at this size. Foolish, really. Why does he do these things?

Edgar, having no idea that Andrew isn't normally so small, thinks he's talking about his inability to stand.

Of course you aren't, he replies. You've hit your head. I'm sure if you weren't hurt you'd be just fine on your own. Edgar doesn't fully believe that last bit, but he can tell that Andrew's upset or worried about his current state and seeks to reassure him, at least a little.

Edgar flips over his hand so that it is palm-up beside Andrew, and waits for him to flop aboard.

"You've no idea," Andrew informs him. "I'm bloody brilliant, I am." And so modest, too!

He considers standing for a moment, then wisely decides against it and scoots his way over instead, climbing on with an awkwardness that makes him feel self conscious. It can't be helped, though; his limbs hardly want to obey him even now. Scooting his way to the middle of Edgar's palm, he swallows his pride and lies down to optimize his stability. "Beam me up, Scotty!"

Edgar arches an eyebrow at the boast, but frowns a little at the cheerful exclamation. He has no idea what it means and, given the way his day is going, it could mean anything. Deciding to ignore it, he carefully shifts himself onto his knees. Hold on, he tells Andrew.

Using his free hand, he pulls the opening to the pouch as wide as it will go and gently slides in the hand holding Andrew. He settles the hand at the bottom of the pouch and fluffs open the opposite opening to allow in air and light. He pulls his bag onto his shoulder, grabs Almondine's leash, and finally stands up.

Are you alright? he asks Andrew, wanting to make sure he's a secure and comfortable as possible before they head out.

Andrew does his best, but the movement makes him dizzy and he has to squeeze his eyes shut until he's inside the pocket. Not being able to see actually makes it worse, though, as what feels like a violent shift in altitude follows and leaves his head spinning.

"No," he mumbles in reply, rubbing his face hard with his hands despite the pain that blossoms in response. Louder, he contradicts himself with, "Yes."

Edgar knows that Andrew probably isn't alright, but it's the best he can do in the situation. Still, he grimaces slightly in sympathy. Sliding his free hand all the way through the leash loop, he signs to Almondine.

/Take it slow and easy,/ he tells her. /We have to be careful with Andrew./

Almondine gives him a look that can only be described as "Of course" and Edgar smiles.

Here we go, he tells Andrew. Trying to keep his gait as steady as possible, he sets out.

It's good that the end of the pocket is open; being able to see out at least a little -- and more importantly, getting fresh air -- stops Andrew from feeling entirely like he's being swung about in a burlap sack. Well, that and the hand holding him up. Still, it's not a pleasant ride from his perspective, and any charm that he might have found in being a passenger of this size is obliterated by his nausea and pain. He does his best to keep focused and alert (and not to vomit), but there's blackness creeping in at the edges of his vision.

They're waiting for the light to change five blocks on when Almondine looks up at Edgar and gives a faint wuff. Edgar frowns down at the pouch.

Are you okay? he asks Andrew. Do you need to stop for a minute? Just - just pat my thumb twice if you need me to stop, he adds, at a loss for any other way Andrew can respond. Or if anything's wrong.

The time between when they start and when Andrew awakens -- awakens? -- to find Edgar asking him a question is indeterminable, marked mostly by the shifting of the light. That he's slipped in and out of consciousness a few times isn't really clear to Andrew; each time it's like he's blinked and the light or the motion has changed around him.

Were he thinking straight, Andrew would not ask Edgar to stop, as there's little Edgar can do for him other than get him to the TARDIS as quickly as possible. He's not thinking clearly, though, and right now he's feeling stifled and unwell. He's also not sure which side of his hand Edgar's thumb is on, but he takes his best guess and pats in that general direction.

[OOC: Daine and another Andrew are looking for them -- let me know when you're ready to have them in this thread.]

There's an alley opening just a few feet away, and Edgar ducks into it, hiding himself behind a dumpster. With a quick glance to make sure no one is around, he carefully slides the hand holding Andrew out of the pouch.

Edgar's dismayed to find Andrew looks even worse than he did before they started out. He'd originally dismissed the faster option of taking the subway, worried Andrew might be crushed if anyone accidentally bumped into him, but now he's regretting that decision.

He bites back the usual "Are you alright?" which would not only be a ridiculous question, but entirely unhelpful.

Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you? he asks instead. I can make regular stops if you want me to. Or maybe try to hold you closer to the opening on the pouch?

[OOC: We can bring them in any time you'd like. If you want, I can have Almondine react to hearing from Daine in my next comment (or the one after), which could set up Daine and the other Andrew arriving shortly thereafter.]

"It's worse than I thought," mutters Andrew, squinting against the light. For the first time, he's starting to get properly frightened about how hard it is to keep his head straight. Shouldn't he be recovering? Shouldn't the world have stopped spinning by now? Shouldn't he know how long it's been since he went into that pocket?

He shakes his head, then strongly regrets it. "I need -- I need the TARDIS," he insists, failing to be helpful himself.

[OOC: /fails at tagging forever. That would be fine. :)]

Edited 2013-11-23 05:29 (UTC)

Deeply alarmed at Andrew's state (and his own inability to do much about it), Edgar feels panic creep in momentarily. But he fights it down, forcing himself to breathe deeply and slowly through the tightness in his chest. There's really nothing else to do but get Andrew to this TARDIS as quickly as possible. Knowing what that will entail, Edgar grimaces.

We're going to have to give up some steadiness for speed, he tells Andrew. It's going to be rougher going.

Eying the way Andrew is sprawled on his hand, Edgar has an idea. Carefully, he bends his thumb and pinkie finger until the their tips meet just above Andrew's chest. He gently closes the circle they make, fashioning a sort of seat belt around Andrew's middle.

Is this okay? he asks Andrew. It'll help keep you still while I walk, and give you something to hold on to if you need it.

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