Stupid clock (Solo)

Verdy tossed.

She turned.

She muttered wordlessly and huffed.

The absence of Andy was worrying her. She knew she cared about the girl, she was, after all, her friend as well as roommate. Still, she shouldn’t be having sleepless nights over the fact she was a little late. Verdy glared at the gently glowing clock.

2:07.

It was perfectly reasonable to be out that late on a date wasn’t it? Although Andy hadn’t mentioned anything about a date… maybe she met up with- what was his name again?- and went to visit, and decided to have a sleepover. Yeah. Right. This was Andy she was thinking of, not some random hussy. Not to mention the whole turning-to-people-to-stone-thing.

Would he turn to if he touched her skin? Kissed her? She knew hands were a no-go-zone. Eyes too… that would cut out a lot of things from a relationship. Not that she would know of course.

With a bitter huff, not directed at the absent roommate but herself, she rolled over and tried to ignore the clock, stupid thing, taunting her with her relationships. Or lack thereof.

A dissatisfied growl announced her clamber out of bed. Grabbing a towel she headed towards their little bathroom. Showers were good for clearing the mind, as well as cleansing the skin.

~~~

Glowing a healthy pink she clambered back into warm pajamas and tossed her towel onto the chair to dry itself. Snuggling into bed she hoped that wherever Andy was, what(or who)ever she was doing, that she was warm and safe. And not too warm and being safe.

She snorted at the sheer strangeness of that thought, with only a tiny tinge of jealousy and rolled again. Her time would come, and unlike moments on the street she would find someone who really cared, more than the price of a hotel room and cash-per-hour. She had done it before, but wouldn’t go back to it with any other option.

Cramming those thoughts, and the mental images her subconscious helpfully provided of Slate, deep into a shoebox in her brain and leaving something heavy sitting on top of it, she growled at the clock again. Reaching out of the warm covers she felt around on the floor and grasped the damp corner of the towel. It must have slipped off the chair where it was supposed to stay. Giving one final disdainful snort she tossed it over the clock so the dim light was blacked out.

Sleep came quickly enough after that, bringing dreams of birthday parties past. Andy, if she wasn’t back the day after tomorrow, was going to miss her birthday- she hadn’t realised how badly she wanted to share it with someone after so long alone on the streets. Somehow calling in on the Alchemist on her own birthday, even if she brought cake, seemed a little odd. Besides which, cake was notoriously good at dropping crumbs on clean carpet, the hallway (not to mention the room itself) had had more than enough cleaning product fumes floating through recently. Did Slate like cake? Or the other receptionists? Was it suitable to bring cake to work at all? And when was Andy’s birthday? She would have to ask her when she came back from… wherever she was…