AN:
Hello my dearest readers! Hope you are all physically and mentally well and coping alright! [For future readers who might read this: we're currently in the middle of a Corona crisis. Hooray...] With the current situation one might suppose I've got more time to write, but unfortunately quite the opposite is the case. Didn't help that this chapter was a pain to edit once I finished with the draft xD Also, originally I planned to cover their entire weekend in one chapter, but the words just added up and in the end I figured it was getting too long and would take forever to complete, edit and upload.
I hope you'll enjoy it the way it turned out. A bit of fluff, a bit of the usual friction... not much else happening lol
Happy reading everyone! (=^-^=)
xoxox MLE
Chapter Nine
It was not before Friday afternoon that Glinda actually forced herself to take out her phone and give Fiyero a ring. She was already on the tram to the city centre, and Elphaba's directive to set things straight with him was merely one of the reasons why she had to make this call. Of course, even she knew that it was the right thing to do. And then there were her overconcerned roommates - she still hadn't found an easy way to explain her sudden attachment and friendship to Elphaba, which meant that Fiyero, once again, had to serve as her stalking horse. Perhaps, that was the next issue she needed to fix, but for now, she'd have at least another week to figure out how. What was most important for the time being, was to ensure that Mr. Cover-up did not show up at her flat without warning in order to coax her out of hiding.
"Glin?"
"Yes. Hi, Fi."
"Huh. It actually is you. I almost thought you might have just butt dialled me."
"You know that I don't carry my phone in my jeans pocket," she replied quietly, adding, "I hardly even wear jeans."
Fiyero humphed. "I'm not sure if I still remember those minute details. After all, I haven't seen you or heard of you in a while."
Flinching at the severity of his tone, Glinda almost wanted to hang up. She deserved all of it, yet acknowledging her guilt only made it harder to listen to his cool reception. On the other hand, he'd answered her call within seconds. No matter how mad he seemed, he must also have been somewhat eager to hear her voice.
"Look, Fiyero, I'm terribly sorry I didn't call you."
Instead of a reply, he made a small noise, indicating that he was waiting for her to say more.
"And for not texting you."
"And..?"
"And for..." she paused, casting nervous glances at her fellow passengers. Next time she'd choose a less public place if she expected to discuss delicate private matters. "And for ignoring your calls."
"Right. Well, that's a start, I guess. How about we meet up and talk about it? Are you free tomorrow?"
"No, I'm afraid I'm not," she sighed.
She could hear Fiyero scoff. "Work?" he asked, and she briefly considered to lie.
"No. Elphaba," she muttered instead, too embarrassed to speak more clearly.
At first, there was silence, then he just said, "Oh."
For such a short reply, it made her disproportionally anxious. Did he feel replaced, cast aside? Was he jealous? He'd been her most vital friend for many years now and he'd always be one of a kind, irreplaceable. But somehow he was not what she currently craved and needed. She couldn't think of any way to explain this to him in a logical, comprehensible way. Truth be told, it didn't make a lot of sense to her either. Considering her feelings in depth, they seemed cold and unfair, even to her. She'd always been open with Fiyero, though, and despite her inability to make the situation more palatable to him, she decided to be as honest as she could. He deserved that much at least, after she'd left him high and dry for the better part of two weeks.
"Stuff happened and made a mess of me," she finally confessed, surprised when, seemingly out of nowhere, tears began to brim in her eyes. Blinking them back, she collected herself, one deep breath at a time. She was past this stage now. No more crying. "Things are looking up now, thanks to Elphaba. Please don't be upset that I didn't confide in you from the start. I promise I'll explain it all when we meet."
"Okay," he answered in an unexpectedly calm tone of voice. "And when will that be?"
"Monday, if you want," she blurted immediately, glad that he appeared to be coming around. "I'll make sure to leave work early and stay till after dinner. I'll bring takeout."
With a sigh, he agreed.
"Monday then. But don't think feeding me will make up for all of your neglect and emotional cruelty. Although, you know, some Vinkun souvas might help soothe the pain somewhat."
"Noted," she laughed meekly.
"But hey, seriously, you've been blocking me out for way too long. Throw me a bone! What's going on?
"I-I can't tell you right now, Fiyero," she insisted, once again looking around anxiously.
"Please, just give me something!"
"I'm on the freaking tram, Fiyero. And I also have to get off in a second."
"Come on, Glin!"
"No, listen, don't make me hang up on you. I don't want that. On Monday. I promise, on Monday we'll kiss and make up or whatever, and I'll tell you everything. And I mean it - everything."
He was silent then. For a second, she thought he'd ended the call, but the tell-tale sound signal wasn't there. The display of the tram changed to announce her stop. Sluggishly, she dragged herself off the seat and towards the exit.
"See you Monday, 'kay?"
"Yeah, have a great weekend," he replied, sounding tired, and then he was gone.
The doors opened. Leaving the confines of the tram with firm, deliberate steps, she decided to shake off the gloomy feelings this conversation had evoked. She'd made an important move towards redemption; everything else would have to wait. She needed to focus on herself first, stocking up on as much happiness as she could for now.
The sky was in no mood to assist her. When she looked up, she found it cheerless and dense with clouds. She'd barely made it half way to Elphaba's place when the first drops fell. She cursed under her breath, berating herself for not paying more attention to the forecast or at least routinely carrying a foldable umbrella. The only useful item she could find in her bag was a thin scarf, which she wrapped around her head in an attempt to keep her hair out of harm's way. The clothes would dry, eventually, but getting her frizzy mane back into shape would require a considerable amount of effort and time she did not wish to waste.
Thankfully, the wind was light and mild and the rain wasn't outright pouring down on her. It remained a steady sprinkle, gently soft to the skin, yet persistent enough to thoroughly soak through her clothes. In a final, desperate attempt to safe her silken curls, she pulled out a shirt from her duffle bag, piling it on top of the wet scarf. As she turned into Mennipin Street where pavers gave way to old-fashioned cobble, she almost slipped. Her heeled feet had never been fond of the slick stones, but this was the first time that she was almost worried that she might break her neck, or at least twist an ankle. She tied the sleeves of the shirt under her chin to hold it in place, freeing her hands so she could better keep her balance. At least, there was some residual hope that everyone else was equally busy reaching their destination in a more or less dry state, consequently being too distracted to take note of her antics.
She reached the house and hurried under the protective roof of the portico. Judging by the violent shiver that made its way down her spine, it was hardly a moment too soon. Her hand extended towards the doorknock, but she pulled it back quickly. Before she could present herself to anyone face to face, she'd have to discard her ridiculous head covering. She found a plastic bag which she'd packed for her used clothing and popped the drenched shirt and scarf inside. After roughly combing and rearranging her hair with her hands and twirling the strands framing her face with her forefinger, she knocked.
Waiting in front of the door, she impatiently tapped her foot. What time was it anyway? She hadn't left work much earlier than she usually did on a Friday. To be on the safe side, she double-checked her watch and confirmed that it was almost six o'clock. Considering the size of the house, her knocking could have easily gone unnoticed, she reasoned and tried her luck a second time.
The rain began to intensify after all, drumming violently against the roof above her head. It wouldn't have been too bad, if the wind hadn't picked up as well, blowing colder than earlier and in fierce bursts at times. Whenever it was at its strongest, the rain was swept sideways and up, right under the portico. Finally, she'd had enough. Shuffling through her handbag, she located Elphaba's spare key and let herself into the house.
"Elphaba?"
Standing in the grand entrance hall, she hesitated. She carefully surveyed the room. A number of jackets hung from the coat rack, and several pairs of shoes were lined up on their shelf and below. It was hard to tell whether any items of clothing were missing. At a second thought, however, Glinda remembered that Elphaba rarely took the time to line up her boots this neatly and that she often left at least some of her paperwork on the side table before taking it to her office to work on it in the evening. The present tidiness seemed to suggest that the primary resident of the house had not yet had an opportunity to undo her domestic aide's work.
Slowly, Glinda took off her heels. She was of two minds as to whether she should use the guest slippers provided and risk dampen them, or whether it would be any better to leave wet tracks all over the marble floor, hard wood and rugs. She opted for the slippers, making sure to select the most worn pair. Surely, Elphaba wouldn't mind too much replacing them in the near future.
"Elphie?" she called once again, just in case she'd drawn the wrong conclusion.
She entered the main living room. The house seemed deserted, but feeling not entirely at ease with the way she had gained access without explicit permission, doubts continued to pester her. Where should she sit, she wondered. Would it be inappropriate for her to get comfortable on the couch while she waited? Would the small table in the kitchen be a better alternative? Deep down, she knew she was just being silly. Elphaba would probably only stare at her blankly if she later ventured to actually ask any of those questions.
She heard footsteps then, or at least thought that she did. Spinning around and scurrying back the way she'd come, she made to investigate the source.
"Shell?"
It was only now that she'd remembered that Elphaba was not the only possible occupant she might encounter.
There was no answer, however, and, eventually, she resolved that she was indeed and beyond doubt all by herself. Propriety be damned, she reluctantly decided to bring her duffle bag upstairs to her guestroom. If Elphaba didn't show up by the time she was back downstairs, she might take the liberty to watch some TV.
It must have been an hour or more later when the heavy thud of the closing front door resonated through the house and rose Glinda from her half-dazed state. She dropped her feet which she had been sitting on to the ground and froze, her ears pricked up to analyse every subsequent noise. She prayed it would be her friend and not the illusive brother, whom she hadn't even met yet. By all accounts, Shell was even less likely to care about her intrusion than Elphaba might, yet that didn't mean that it would make Glinda more comfortable with the situation.
Although she strained hard to hear, there was little she could find out. The house was too vast for her to discern the sounds of particular movements or the tapping of a specific kind of shoe all the way from the hallway to the living room. All she could make out was a very vague array of shuffling, echoing and rustling noises, followed by the clanging of keys that were casually chucked into the ceramic bowl by the entrance. It was quiet then. Unshod feet were unlikely to make any noise on the marble tiles.
"I knew I'd find you here."
Elphaba poke her head through the doorway into the living room, and Glinda gave a little wave, smiling sheepishly.
"Hi."
"I'll just get changed real quick," the green woman informed her before disappearing again.
Relieved, Glinda wiggled back into the pile of cushions she had surrounded herself with. She turned off the TV and took her phone out, idly browsing through her messages. It suddenly occurred to her that she could have at least shot Elphaba a text the moment she'd made herself at home in her house. That would have been the next proper thing to do, wouldn't it? Why she hadn't thought of it earlier was beyond her, but so far, there was luckily no indication that Elphaba was at all annoyed by her move.
Elphaba returned within a couple of minutes, two cans of soda in her hands.
"So you've been doing okay?" she asked, placing one of the drinks in front of Glinda before taking a seat on the coffee table. Tilting her head, she studied her curiously. "To be honest, I expected a flood of messages. You usually tend to be more, well, talkative."
Glinda could feel the blush rising into her cheeks.
"I've been sort of practicing self-reliance," she admitted. "You've already done so much to help me, and I figured your temporary absence was as good an occasion as any to test how well I can cope sorting out my own issues." Seeing Elphaba's concerned expression, she hastily added, "If I'd really needed support I'd have called you regardless. I wouldn't have let things go way downhill just out of some misplaced sense of pride, I swear. It was alright. I was alright. Really."
Elphaba opened her mouth, then closed it again and nodded. She leaned closer and laid her hand upon Glinda's shoulder in what must have been meant as a gesture of approval, but the contact was only fleeting. Almost immediately, she drew it back, a hissing sound escaping her lips.
Eyes wide, Glinda gaped at her, grappling to make sense of what had just happened. Elphaba was still sitting opposite her, her right hand clenched into a fist. Her face was tightened in pain for a moment, then relaxed. She exhaled and looked up, her expression almost embarrassed.
"What's wrong, Elphie?" Glinda asked, brows furrowed in alarm. "Are you hurt?"
"Never mind that," Elphaba replied dismissively, flexing her hand. She stood up and beckoned Glinda to follow her. "We need to find you something dry to wear. You can't sit around in those damp things; you'll catch a cold or something."
"They will dry in no time," Glinda maintained stubbornly as they walked towards the staircase. "I didn't bring any more than I expected to need and some of my other stuff got wet in the rain also. But you are in pain. That needs to be addressed asap."
Elphaba bluntly ignored her concerns.
"You can have one of my t-shirts," she offered in a tone that left little room for argument. Glinda scowled at the back of her head and crossed her arms defiantly. By the time they reached Elphaba's room, however, she'd conceded defeat.
After receiving a pile of comfy, soft clothes, she withdrew to her guestroom to get changed. The shirt was loose enough to fit almost any average sized person, but the leggings were way too big, of course – Elphaba's legs being rather lengthy and Glinda's quite short by any measure. She really loved the socks though. They were light brown and fuzzy with little bunny ears at the top. Most likely, Elphaba had received them as a joke gift from one of her pals or family members. Casting a fleeting glance at the mirror, she felt somewhat foolish in the random ensemble, then quickly reminded herself that nothing of it really mattered when she was with Elphaba. Not only were they friends, Elphaba also seemed to be the last person on this planet to care what anyone was wearing anywhere. It wasn't that she thought that Elphaba couldn't appreciate good taste and a beautiful look if she saw one, especially given the right person and circumstance, but she was certainly far less likely to expect constant perfection. If nothing else, Glinda told herself, she might at least smile a little – perhaps only inwardly - at the sight of this short, fashion-conscious blonde in her own, ill-fitting and haphazardly chosen clothes.
When she made her way back downstairs, she discovered that Elphaba was already chopping away in the kitchen. She found it difficult to guess whether she had done anything at all to treat her hand injury and was hesitant to ask about it. What she did observe, though, was that she avoided using her right hand wherever possible. Especially when she was holding the knife, it was obvious that she was not naturally left-handed. Several times Glinda felt compelled to ask if she required assistance, but was too afraid of affronting her chronically wayward friend.
"What do you feel like watching?" Elphaba nonchalantly asked after dinner, navigating through the extensive catalogue on WizzFlickz.
Glinda shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't mind. Are there any docus you haven't seen yet?"
Scoffing, Elphaba selected a fantasy drama she thought Glinda might enjoy. She herself only knew the books the film was based on.
"Admit it," she said, sitting down on the other end of the couch, languidly crossing her legs "last time you were here, I made you watch more documentaries than you'd ever seen in your entire life."
Glinda pouted. "That sounds like you must think me entirely ignorant and uneducated."
"If that was true, I wouldn't even know you," Elphaba pointed out. "A minor case of ignorance is curable, and I actually, believe you to be highly educated. So much so, that I think some unschooling might perhaps do you good."
Rendered speechless and mildly confused, Glinda couldn't help but stare at Elphaba, who didn't even bother to look away from the screen and also otherwise made no effort to acknowledge her. With a slight huff, she settled into her seat and drew up her legs, tucking them underneath her. She would have to puzzle out the meaning of Elphaba's words by herself, knowing it was pointless to ask for any clarification. Frustrated, she grabbed the bowl of colourful vegie crisps from the table and began to munch, trying hard to focus on the unfolding story of the movie.
"Are there any left for me?" Elphaba suddenly enquired a while later, when she had already scoffed down about half of the snacks.
Glinda jumped in her seat. She'd almost forgotten that Elphaba was still there. Feeling cheeky, she offered her a playful grin before pointedly putting another crisp in her mouth. When Elphaba rolled her eyes and made to turn away, she giggled softly and scooched a little closer. She stopped a few inch away from Elphaba, hesitating, but after a brief moment, she found the courage to almost completely close the gap between them. She felt her breath hitch a bit. Closeness still did that to her, despite their increasing familiarity. Awkwardly, she tucked a strand behind her ear, then grabbed a morsel and brought it up to Elphaba's lips.
"Ahh," she prompted. In her head she'd imagined herself to sound more confident.
Elphaba shot her a bemused look but, shockingly, complied without protest. Satisfied, Glinda fell into a routine of alternatingly feeding herself and then Elphaba until the bowl was finished.
When no more food reached her, Elphaba peeked at the bowl.
"Shall I get more?"
"I'm stuffed," Glinda replied. "Only if you still want any."
She somehow really hoped that Elphaba didn't, so that there was no need for either of them to move. Despite the lingering flutter of agitation in her stomach, she felt oddly comfortable exactly the way they were.
When Elphaba took to bowl off her, her heart dropped slightly. To her relief, she didn't get up; she merely used her long arms to place it onto the table, then eased back into the same position as before. Glinda smiled to herself.
No longer otherwise occupied, her fingers began to fidget, picking invisible dirt from underneath her nails, fencing with each other. It distracted Glinda from enjoying the film – mostly because she was worried that Elphaba might notice and think she was bored. She shoved them underneath her legs, but the disquiet refused to go away.
Slowly, she turned her head, glancing at Elphaba. It had gotten late and there no longer was any daylight coming from the windows. The TV had become the only source of light in the entire room. Feeling less conspicuous in the semidarkness, she allowed herself to study the woman next to her, the silhouette of her sharp features, the sheen of her ridiculously straight hair. The green skin now seemed hardly more unusual to Glinda than any of the other shades that could be found throughout Oz, safe the fair tone she had been accustomed to ever since childhood. In Frottica, distinctively brownish or reddish hues were almost as rare as Elphaba's verdigris. The thought of introducing Elphaba to her family crossed her mind, and her heart beat harder in terror of the mere idea. They would never be able to see in Elphaba what she saw and, without question, treat her most abominably. Just like they wouldn't be able to approve of their own daughter if she were to openly express how she truly felt about her future prospects of matrimony.
She looked away then, taking a deep breath and rubbing her eyes in an effort to stop her mind from rambling uselessly. After all, Elphaba was most unlikely to ever meet her parents and her parents' potential disapproval of their daughter had nothing whatsoever to do with Elphaba. There was no need to further complicate her life by pondering such nonsensical scenarios; especially when the entire purpose of this weekend was to let go of all the negativity and simply enjoy spending time with her unusual, but amazing, very special friend. Elphaba was special – as a person and also, almost more importantly, she was special to Glinda. She knew it instinctively, but what did that mean? Well, that was another riddle for her to solve, and she could already feel the haze of contemplation creeping in on her.
"Are you okay?"
The words registered faster than the sensation of Elphaba's touch on her arm. Warmth flushed her body as the realisation set in, accompanied by only a fraction of the usual unease. She was certainly getting used to Elphaba. She blinked, then briefly met her friend's eyes.
"I was just lost in thoughts," she smiled, her gaze drifting downward to where Elphaba's hand still rested on her arm.
Elphaba slowly withdrew her hand, but Glinda caught it, covering it with her own and squeezing it lightly.
"Thank you Elphie," she said, "for looking out for me."
Elphaba's mouth did not betray as much as the twitching of a smile, but the expression in her eyes was warm and caring.
"You've been using that dreadful nickname a lot recently," she observed evenly.
Glinda blushed, but knowing that it wouldn't show in the dim light, she tried to play it cool.
"And I'm glad to see that you've already accepted the futility of resistance," she teased. "I'm not gonna stop, you know?"
Studying their joint hands, she remembered Elphaba's injury. Shifting swiftly onto her knees, she reached for her right hand to examine it. Unsurprisingly, Elphaba tried to resist, but Glinda gently, yet firmly held her wrist to keep it in place until she acquiesced.
All she could make out was a vague shadow that looked different from the surrounding skin. It was mostly just darker, but also had an odd shine to it and looked taut, while the rest of her hand was soft and smooth. If only Glinda possessed some kind of healing power; she could hardly supress the strong urge to reach out and tenderly stroke the sore area in hope of soothing it.
The moment her grip around Elphaba's wrist loosened, the green woman jerked away her hand. She didn't speak or look at Glinda, her gaze fixed back on the screen in front of her. There was no sign to betray anger or even as much as mild annoyance. Her face was entirely would be typical Elphaba to avoid talking about her own issues and peculiarities, Glinda thought, even though she always was so ready to encourage others to pour out their hearts and find solace in shared sorrows.
Feeling guilty for inflicting such pain, however unintentionally, and out of sheer concern, she struggled to decide whether it would be better to let Elphaba have it her own way, or whether pressing for an explanation might be the more responsible option. Although she craved answers, she couldn't find it in her heart to pester Elphaba into involuntary confessions. At a total loss of how to proceed, she simply kept staring at her, hardly even realising that she was.
Eventually, her unconscious efforts paid off.
At first, Elphaba only scoffed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. Then, still avoiding to meet Glinda's eyes, she finally said, "It's the water."
Glinda bit her lip. She'd noticed a while ago that Elphaba would usually wipe her hands rigorously on thick, textured towels when working in the kitchen, using sanitiser rather than the readily available running water when more thorough cleansing was in order. Sometimes she wore gloves to avoid the necessity of cleaning altogether. She'd thought of it as one of her quirks and had neither pondered it too deeply, nor considered asking in fear of offending her. The idea that there could be a valid reason for this strange routine had never occurred to her before. Anxiously, she waited for further explanations. When none were forthcoming, she nodded in encouragement, even though she doubted that Elphaba would notice her gesture.
A few minutes later, the film was over and the credits began to roll across the screen. Elphaba reached for the remote to turn off the TV. With a slight sense of defeat, Glinda turned around to look for her phone underneath the scattered pillows next to her, figuring that this discussion would not be going any further this evening. She was caught by surprise when she heard Elphaba speak again.
"It burns me like fire," she said, casting a brief, uncertain glance at Glinda. She paused again, but only for a few clock-ticks this time. "Apparently, my skin's physiological abnormalities go beyond pigmentation. I've got scars" - she briskly pulled back the sleeve of her t-shirt to reveal her left upper arm - "where they took samples to figure out what was wrong with it."
Holding her breath, Glinda couldn't help but gape, shocked as much by the fact itself as she was by Elphaba's sudden candour. Seemingly unperturbed by this point, Elphaba straightened her sleeve and continued, properly facing her at last.
"Despite extensive testing, all lab results came back inconclusive. About half a dozen scientific papers later, and the medical world apparently still is mystified by my condition." She shrugged. "It's inconvenient, but most of the time not life threatening. I avoid the proximity of pools, lakes and other large bodies of water where possible. I'm not really too worried about falling in by accident, but you never know what idiot might be tempted to give the green weirdo a hearty push." The offhand remark was followed by a wry laugh.
Glinda dipped her head, unsure how to react. Elphaba wouldn't want to hear her saying that she was sorry or anything like that, and there was nothing she could offer in the way of advice.
"What?" Elphaba demanded, mocking her playfully. "Cat got your tongue?"
"That's not fair," Glinda huffed, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "You're fully aware how unusual this is. I don't even mean the thing with the water - just you opening up about stuff. There are certain things that others would regard as highly personal, but that you seem to be happy to just throw out there without much fanfare. And then there are things you keep under lock and key like your life depended on the secrecy. Those are the things I don't generally expect you to share, especially in such depth."
Snorting, Elphaba rose to her feet.
"Well, you asked. Sort of."
"Yes," Glinda countered, "but I'm not sure if I anticipated that much of an answer, especially from you."
"Was it more than you wanted to hear?"
"Of course not!" Glinda fired back, standing up as well. "But…" There she faltered and sat back down. "I'm not very good at this, I guess."
To her amazement, Elphaba followed suit and took a seat opposite of her on the coffee table, hands loosely folded in her lap. She looked like she was at the brink of a smile.
"It's cool, you know? No need to feel upset, or embarrassed, or anything, alright?"
Glinda swallowed hard and nodded.
"Got any questions though?"
"How do you drink? I mean, I see you drink all the time. Everyone has to drink!"
It genuinely was the first question that had popped into her mind, but the instant she had blurted out the words, she felt ridiculous. Covering her mouth with her hand, she mumbled an apology.
"No, it's fine," Elphaba cackled as she pulled something small out of her pocket. "Got a special lip balm for that. The lining of my mouth is fine, as is everything else on the inside. The mucous seems to act as an effective barrier. But for my lips I need this stuff. It's quite expensive though, and some of the ingredients are more than questionable, so it's not feasible to use it all over. Alternatively, I could simply limit myself to high-proof spirits. It's hard to tell which one would be healthier, but constant inebriety would probably have the greater impact on my every day life."
Her continuous flippancy tugged at Glinda's heart strings. She thought that Elphaba was really brave, but knew that she herself wouldn't see it that way, which meant that it was not a sentiment worth mentioning. Exhaling softly, she leaned forward.
"You know, Elphie," she said gently, her face no more than an inch away from her friend's, "I really appreciate that you decided to share this with me."
"It was hard to avoid at this point," answered Elphaba dismissively.
She got up again and grabbed the empty crisp bowl, then started in the direction of the kitchen.
Silently, Glinda watched her almost disappear in the near darkness. When she came back, presumably to suggest that they should go to bed, the blonde pulled herself to her feet and met her half way.
"Don't pretend to be so tough," she said and lightly nudged Elphaba with her elbow, "you wouldn't have told me as much as you did if you didn't want to."
All she received in reply was another impassive shrug.
"Well, at any rate, I'm glad you did," she whispered and wrapped her arm around Elphaba's.
