-- date with the night *

[andy doyle.]

from the dining hall, andy could hear carlisle puttering around in the kitchen like a bored and lonely housewife, straightening up, putting things back where they belonged and maybe, just maybe, even washing the dishes? this was a foreign concept to andy, of course, the professional walking hurricane, and even at her old waitressing job, when she had been forced to work until closing, she had managed to sneak away from cleaning up just in the nick of time. she never knew why the manager had let her get away with it...probably had something to do with the fact she had jerked him off at a halloween party or something, who knows. the point is, as carlisle lamely demanded for her to put out her cigarette, andy's eyes rolled skywards. "cancer stick? who in the fuck even says that shit anymore? christ, you're gay." still, she stubbed out the lit end on the underside of the table (sneaky, sneaky!) and even managed to wait before lighting another one. omg apocalypse.

as carlisle continued to tool around in the kitchen like the cheap homo that he was (what? shut up, it made sense to andy), the vaguely good mood that andy found herself in, executable only by a hard day's work a wad of cash in her pocket or a jaegerbomb just ripe for the chugging, was shattered in only a few seconds as a grating, shrill, distinctly feminine voice floated out from the kitchens, into andy's ears, and began choking her brain: cora west's voice. already, andy could feel the hot and dull presence of anger in the pit of her belly. already this bitch was pissing her off. many had tried to put the pieces together and figure out just why in the hell cora and andy were such terrible enemies--why couldn't they get along? why couldn't they just bury the hatchet and act like normal fucking adults? what the hell was their deal?

well, if anyone every bothered asking andy, she'd be more than happy to shed a little light on their feud. cora had what andy could never, ever obtain: a strong and unshakable relationship with one topher thomas lane. sure, andy and topher were good friends--they were great friends, according to her--but cora and topher had something special, and it wasn't fair. the way she felt about topher...it made her feel sick and exhilarated and passionate and good and clean, all in one sitting. she had never felt like that about anyone or anything in her entire life, and she reckoned she never would, but topher had his eye on cora. oh, andy knew. yeah, he never said out loud that he was in love with cora, but andy knew. so she did her part in their silly love triangle, and that was simply to make cora's life a living hell, and if that meant stealing her tips, cutting her hair and "accidentally" bumping into her in front of a flight of stairs, then so be it.

also, what she made in tips and double-dropping wasn't too shabby, love triangle be damned.

andy rolled her eyes again as cora excused herself from her's and carlisle's little pow-wow (which was about the dumbest thing she had ever seen, of course) to take out the garbage. "yeah, honey," she called out, loud enough for cora to hear, "you g'on and take out that trash. be real fuckin sure t'get yourself in that dumpster nice'n tight, or else the garbage man won't see you in the mornin and you'll fuckin hafta sit around for a whole week." too easy. hurp a durp. as soon as carlisle sashayed himself into the dining area, andy immediately brightened--after all, it wasn't too hard for her to be the kind and caring individual when she wanted something. "heyyy, darling dearest. wanna do me a favor? are the kitchens closed?" she climbed out of her chair and, regrettably, slid her flats back on, wincing at the deep ache in her bones. ugh, barely twenty-three and already she felt like an old woman. this job was balls.

yet, before she even had time to ask for her favor, carlisle launched into some bullshit speech and listing off "things that andy had done already to fuck up". her sweet demeanor dropped as she locked eyes with carlisle and frowned. "uh, okay, first of all, you fuckin needa be watchin how you fuckin talk t'me. i won't be havin none of that 'you do this, you do that, don't do that but do this' bullshit. you get me? you may be my boss but you won't be fuckin tellin me what t'do with my fuckin free time, my fuckin cigarettes'n my motherfuckin hands. so the fuck what if they happen t'land on that stupid twat's money--" her rant, thank god, was cut off as cora manhandled her way back into the conversation, yet her punishment would be swift and terrible. andy rounded on the poor (fake) blonde, lighting a cigarette in the process and gesturing with her hands when appropriate. "yeah, no one fuckin asked you in here, alright? you can leave now. go on! get goin! you're gonna get locked outta the dumpster! don't be late, shitheel!" yeah...it looked like andy wasn't going to even consider giving back that money, so it was probably best to just drop the whole thing all together or risk a fist to the mouth.

once andy had a decent pull on her cigarette, she seemed to calm down almost immediately after. raking her fingers through her wild mess of hair, she decided that probably taking the initiative would be the most effective way to get food in her belly. omnomnom! she closed the gap between herself and carlisle, then looped her arm around his middle and guided him back into the kitchen, where the sharp tang of bleach met andy's nose. "oh, lookit that!" she remarked with a grin, majestically sweeping her hands across the stoves and griddles and ovens and sinks, "kitchen's open. i'll give you...hold on--" she paused to pick through the lump of money in her pockets, select a handful of wrinkled bills, and slap them down on a nearby counter, where, afterwords, she hoisted herself up on the flat surface to sit, rest her feet, and swing her legs as if she were a small child sitting in a much-too-big chair. "what is that? it's--is that thirty bucks? eh, fuck it. i'll give you three of, uh, whatev'r the fuck that shit is to cook me some dinner. i'm hungry as balls and i don't got no food at home, so have at it, julia childs." pushy? you bet! it's probably best to just do as she says, carlisle. don't kick up too much shit.

NOTES

[/size] you guys, i don't think andy is a fan of cora. :[ ps LOL TRANSPLANTED.[/font]
COUNT[/size] one thousand one hundred and fifty-one.[/font]
OUTFIT[/size] coming soon![/font]
TAG[/size] carlisle and cora.[/font]
MUSIC[/size] new look - function of your love.[/font][/left]