The Split

[RoryN]

Andy stood at the sink and splashed water on his face, practically supporting his weight on the edge of it as he rubbed at his eyes and the bridge of his nose. What the heck happened in there? One minute he was handing over his boss's coffee - which, he'd accidentally screwed up the order for because after practically two years of straight espresso Mr. Williams decided to get something different today - and getting a rapid-fire to-do list that had his mind fried while Mr. Williams threw in a few condescending phrases as an extra kick in his non-existent balls(metaphorically). And then the next minute he was sarcastically asking if his boss wanted him to schedule an anal-massage administered by a buff, male masseuse with a broom handle.

Andrew had been Mr. Williams' personal assistant for almost 3 years and even though he had to put up with a ton of bullcrap day in and day out and never receiving a grateful word, he'd NEVER snapped at his boss like that. And it showed, because it surprised the both of them after he'd said it and after a frantically stuttered apology, Mr. Williams was actually willing to let it slide since this was the first time. Which would have been/WAS a big relief, except for the fact...that he didn't say that. Well, he DID - the words had come from his mouth - but it hadn't been him who'd uttered them. For those 10 seconds while Andrew finished typing up his boss's hurriedly worded demands and then gave him that rude response, it'd suddenly felt like someone else was in control of his body and mouth. Which was absurd.

Standing in front of the mirror, he tried to pull himself together and shed the feeling that something was wrong and checked his watch. It was almost his lunch break and today he was meeting an old flame for coffees. Messiah. They'd met several years ago through some friends and had hooked up once or twice - informally and one of those times with friends - but the spark had been there. They'd lost contact soon after when Andrew went off for college - a lot of good THAT had done for him - but he'd bumped into her again on the subway a few days ago. Their reconnection had been cut short by the train schedule - and Andrew couldn't afford to keep Mr. Williams waiting at the time - but they'd traded numbers before parting ways.

And he'd finally called her back to arrange for a small coffee-lunch. Even as excited as he was to see her again, as he straightened himself out and combed his bangs neatly to the side again, he couldn't shake that ominous feeling from before, almost like a shadow cast over him or someone watching him. Whatever had made him talk back to his boss like that, it WOULDN'T happen again.

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  Unlike Andrew who had sought after a more business oriented career, Messiah pursued a more strenuous occupation. Though university garnered her a degree in medicine, she found solace in volunteer work and ultimately came to be a permanent piece of the local fire department. In fact, Messiah was the soul female member of their prestigious team. Unlike her male counterparts who were loud, rowdy and if anything rambunctious, Messiah was silent and observant. Despite her lack of constant input she grew to love and respect her new family.
  
  During that particular late summer day, Messiah was dismissed on account of a personal endeavor. For the most part she remained on call if an accident were to arise but her fellow coworkers had came to an accumulative agreement that Messiah deserved some time to herself. She went out of her way to protect the not-so-positive product of their foolish shenanigans and as a result, the men banded together to let their only sister have a day to herself. Little did they know she was meeting an old flame who she still had a mild interest in. Even so Messiah was a disclosed woman and often kept her desires to herself lest the appropriate man happen along and served as some manner of catalyst.
  
  "Messiah Perron, I haven't seen your pretty face in years. How've you been?" One of the ostentatious looking waitresses skittering about greeted the coffee-cream skinned woman with the flutter of her dainty fingers. "Content," Messiah hummed in reply. Her voice was a lax drawl; a mixture of molasses and buttercream. It was downy and soft but held an almost terrifyingly strong authority to it. Time and time again Messiah had been told she had the voice of a storyteller but often disregarded such comments. "What brings you here? You were never much of a coffee person."
  
  Messiah rested in silence for a moment. She flashed the waitress a ginger grin and glided past her with a serpentine grace.

 

[RoryN]

Andrew had rushed to get there on time and was seated at a table further in the restaurant, when he saw her. With a smile, he surged to his feet to wave her over, but at that moment another waitress was zooming by and his quickly raised hand overturned the tray of drinks balanced on the woman's palm. Surprised, Andy watched as the glasses crashed to the floor, almost all of them breaking and spilling their contents on the rust colored tiles, a look of horror on his face as he let his eyes finally meet with the waitress's.

"Geez! Great! Thanks, asshole!" the brunette haired woman snapped at him as she shook her hands free of moisture, looking down irritatedly at her shirt which was now drenched with soda.

Feeling extremely guilty, Andy was nervously grabbing napkins from the dispenser on the table, even as he stumbled over profusely offered apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. I should have been paying better attention."

"Damn right, you should've! Don't touch me!" she said harshly, suddenly slapping his hands away aggressively when he'd tried to help clean the mess off of her shirt. Andy flinched and stood back defensively as she huffed angrily and stomped away to disappear through a door on the back wall of the building.

Embarrassed, he glanced around as he adjusted his tie and finally spotted Messiah again. "Hey, you made it!" he said happily, sparing one more wary glance behind himself to make sure the angry waitress wasn't back yet. "I was a little nervous that you might not show up. --Not that that happens to me a lot, or anything!" he blurted defensively with an ingratiating smile. "Course, I don't really bump into old friends all that often either." And he laughed skittishly about that.

Still flustered from what had just happened and worried about what kind of impression he was making, Andy cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "Well, it's great to see you. You look amazing." And then he was on the other side of the table, pulling her chair out for her and offering it to her. "I'm sorry if I seem weird. I'm just...having a stressful day. You know how it is."

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  As per tradition, Messiah's nonchalant, somewhat lethargic attitude reigned supreme. She had learned many years ago that letting her worries weigh heavy on menial happenings was - in a nutshell - a waste of time and energy. In reply she adopted a rather casual facade that gave her a lax demeanor. She could not, however, fight back the smile that crept forth as Andrew had mentioned her appearance.
  
  Messiah was a roguish looking woman with striking features and long, shapely legs. Her family consisted of Egyptian nomads and barterers; she adopted a natural bronze hue to her coffee-colored skin. Her eyes were light, a ginger-ale like hue with flaxen flecks scattered about. She was a beautiful woman with a shaggy, starless mane and a coolant attitude. "I don't understand how you let stress become so overwhelming," she noted kindly.
  
  She silently thanked him for his gesture and rested her backside on the chair's face. Her legs were long and powerful but in the same sense, elegant. It had taken virtually twenty-three years for her to learn to love them and maneuver them so it wasn't physically awkward. "You work too hard. You need to relax, Andrew."

 

[RoryN]

She was more beautiful than he remembered, in an untamed and exotic way, and as he helped her scoot in, he discreetly rubbed his sweating palms on the front of his pants before coming around the table. Eying the mess still on the floor, Andy gingerly stepped around it, trying not to get any soda on his shoes - he'd been lucky enough as it was to avoid getting splashed with it in the first place. And then he spent a few minutes struggling not to worry about when the waitress would be back to clean it up.

"Heh, yeah," he said with an ironic shake of his head as he took his seat across from her. "If I relax, I don't get paid." It was meant to be a joke but it was more true than he would have liked to admit.

<Jesus. Just put a sign around your neck that says "I need a pity fuck.">

Andrew blinked. Was... wait what was that? Nervously, Andy adjusted his tie and smiled weakly at Messiah, trying not to freak the hell out.

<Keep makin' jokes like that and you might as well ask for the check now.>

A voice! Someone's voice! In his head...! There was a voice in his head!

<Oh, for fucks sake. Move over, pussy.>

And then suddenly Andrew could no longer feel himself sitting at the table. His arms and legs were gone and he wasn't breathing. But he could still hear and see, yet he was moving, and he was talking. But he wasn't controlling his mouth or even directing the thoughts behind those words.

"Actually, I was really stressed about seeing you today; I wanted to make a good impression," he said with a casual shrug. Everything about him from the way he sat in his chair and the way he smiled at her had changed, more relaxed and cocky than he'd been a few seconds ago. Casting a dark appraising look up and down her body, he smiled and smugly said, "But I'm alright now."

Then his attention drifted from Messiah and he stuck two fingers into his mouth and gave a clipped whistle. "Hey!" he shouted at the cashier in the front of the restaurant, grabbing the guy's attention. "Can I get some service over here?" His tone was dripping with condescension and he gave the guy a rude look, before settling back into his seat and smiling at his date again. "By the way, call me Drew; everybody does."

Then just as suddenly, whatever the hell that was, it was gone and Andy was sitting back in his seat again. For a moment or two he just sat there silently, not sure what to say and hoping she didn't notice. The last thing he wanted was for her to think that he was a freak or losing his mind. He could deal with this problem later, but for now, he just needed to act normal. And then a waiter spontaneously appeared beside their table smiling graciously at them both.

"Hello, my name is Bill and I'll be your waiter today. Can I start you folks off with some drinks?"

Andy was having trouble finding his voice and for a few seconds he gaped stupidly at the man.

<Order, fucktard.>

Hearing that internal voice again jolted him awake and he stammered, "Uh... I'll have a lemonade."

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  Unlike Andrew who was compelled to work hard and earn his keep, Messiah was a little less structured. She cherished her maxims and personal philosophies, most of which concerned some anagrams that all translated into "live in the moment". The nomadic Egyptian remnant was spontaneous to a degree that was virtually inhuman. She was brazen with a capricious outlook and a rather unpredictable demeanor.
  
  As Andrew seated himself, Messiah evenly crossed her cardigan over her plump bust and folded either arm over her chest. "I never quite understood how we, as humans, can so willingly relinquish our freedom in return for monetary gain. I realize that we need some manner of income to support us but ... there's only so much work we can endure." It was when Andrew became tyrannized by some unknown anomaly that Messiah had glanced away briefly.
  
  She resettled her gaze upon the man, unaware of the sudden change of presence but completely aware of the new facade he adopted. As for his comment concerning a "good impression", Messiah was pleased. Impressions, of course, were pertinent in modern society though she seemed impartial to it. She cast her gaze down the instant he beckoned rather rudely for their waiter, running her fingers through the mane that spilled unevenly over each of her broad shoulders.
  
  Did she condone such behavior? Absolutely not, but at the time she had been too hungry and too tired to even bother caring. Drew, she repeated in her head. "I'll have a shirley temple." She sat silent after that, regarding her date with a somewhat quizzical gaze. Had something changed? If so, what? It irked her that she was unable to place her finger on it, however, she shoved the notion aside for the time being. "When do you work next?"

 

[RoryN]

It was cool. Everything was alright. He was just stressed, that's all. Nothing to worry about.

<Yeah. Why don't you go ahead and have a panic-attack right here? She'll think it's sexy.>

Everything was fine! Breathe in, breathe out!

When their waiter hurried off to fill their orders, Andy tried to get a handle on himself and his thoughts, avoiding what clearly felt like another presence inside his head. Messiah was a lovely distraction with her question and he looked across the table at her with a small smile.

"Well...uh..."

He'd been about to tell her that he was on his lunch break and that he'd need to leave in half an hour, but that feeling from before came over him again.

"Actually, I have the rest of the day off," Drew said with a shrug.

He most certainly did not!

"My boss is real chill like that."

No he wasn't! Mr. Williams was anything BUT 'chill'!

<Relax, numbnuts. I got this.>

"In fact, I'm probably gonna get a promotion soon. I've been licking the guy's balls for enough years. But if I don't, I might just quit. It's not worth it for how demeaning everything is."

Oh, my God! This thing was trying to get him fired!

<Hey. That hurts my feelings. Give me some credit here. I'm not trying to get you fired, I'm trying to get you laid, dumbass. And being a professional kiss-ass is only attractive if she's got a fetish for it.>

When the waiter stopped by to drop off their drinks, Andy had a moment to relax when he was given control again. He thought about correcting the things this Drew guy said, but realized it would be too awkward to suddenly change his mind about needing to work. Maybe when his lunch break was almost over, he could pretend to get a phone call and 'reluctantly' go back to work.

<Don't cock-block me, man.>

How did that even make sense?! Nervously, Andy directed his attention back to Messiah, finding it hard to focus with this constant loss of control and the conversation that was going on in his head. "Uh... So, it's been a while, huh? Are you still in contact with Brie and all them?" Their old friends who'd introduced them. "What have you been up to? Where are you working now?--"

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Drew added with a crooked grin.

Seriously! Knock it off!

<I'm helping!>

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  Vulgar language had been something Messiah was accustomed to. Being raised in a house overflowing with young boys did a number on her sanity and, in the same breath, allowed her to adopt their foul mannerisms. Though she appeared to be an extremely attractive, somewhat cryptic goddess, she inwardly harbored the vocabulary of an eight-teen year old thug.
  
  While Andrew seemed to fight amongst himself, Messiah's eyes appeared to be preoccupied. They haphazardly molested the frothy, bottom-heavy glass that the waiter was balancing on his trek to their table. Her laid her drink in front of her; she marveled it, the perspiring beauty of the thick, syrupy grenadine sitting idle at the bottom of the glass and a colorful mixture of soda and orange juice. She silently thanked the waiter and guided the straw to her lips before taking a dramatic, long sip.
  
  "I'm not," she replied drably, her lengthy eyelashes beating in sync with her voice, "I have no interest in people who have no interest in me. Reciprocation is a beautiful thing." Another sip. She paused, glanced at Andrew with an almost quizzical expression and inadvertently slapped her pierced tongue on the roof of her mouth - it was a habit, a bad one.
  
  "The usual, I'm afraid. Lounging around at my place, low light cast, listening to my wannabe 80's post-punk revival," she half-jested, though the tone in her voice was a smidgen too monotonous to tell. The relaxed Egyptian sprite flashed a meager grin and crossed her right leg over its sister. "I'm a massage therapist. I'm working at a spa downtown for the time being." The next question had caught her idly off guard. But, she seemed all to eager to answer it.
  
  "Of course not." A lapse of silence.
  
  "Men find me too uncaring, which of course is understandable but ... there's only so much interest I can show in a person before I lose it. And what about yourself?"