AN:

I kinda want to apologise for the terribly long break... again... but that's getting old by now, so I'll just drop the chapter and be done with it xD

Happy reading, guys!

xoxox

MLE (^_^)


Chapter Nineteen

"Mark this day, commoners," Crope announced in a booming voice as he flung open the door to their apartment. "Mark this day," he repeated, "for today a star is born!"

Meanwhile on the couch, Glinda and Tibbett looked at each other before breaking into gales of laughter.

"Such disrespect," tutted Crope and dropped his duffle bag on the coffee table before flopping himself onto the couch between his lover and his flatmate.

"I take it you got the lead?" Glinda asked, gasping for air.

Tibbett stifled his mirth and rolled his eyes.

"Of course he did. Otherwise, he'd have come back moping, even if they'd offered him the next best supporting role."

"Well, I deserve this role, that's why," Crope declared with conviction. "Everything else would have been plain robbery."

"I'm proud of you," grinned Glinda, pulling him into a brief hug.

"We're both so proud," added Tibbett with a small pat on his back. "But remember, this is community theatre, not Goldhaven. You'll still have to take care of the dishwasher tonight and every other night after that, as per our agreement. And don't forget about your other chores and duties. And don't quit your part-time job just yet either. I mean it."

Crope pretended to get in a huff, while Glinda rose to her feet.

"Really good to hear about your great news," she said, "but I'm afraid I won't stick around to celebrate. Still got some work to finish before I go to bed."

Slightly disappointed, the boys bobbed their heads in understanding.

"Goodnight then. We'll probably continue the celebrations in our room later," Crope told her with a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Ugh. You two are the worst," she groaned good-humouredly and gave a little wave. "Anyways, let me know if and when you need help practicing your lines. Goodnight. Fresh dreams."

Glinda made sure to firmly close the door behind her and popped in a pair of wireless earphones, not in the least interested in seeing or hearing anything of her roomies' nightly escapades. After choosing a random playlist on her phone, she sat down at her desk and opened her laptop. She'd barely started typing, when the music suddenly went quiet and a chime announced the arrival of a new message. She reached for her phone, eyes fixed on the screen until the smaller display intercepted her line of sight.

'Maybe we should change this passage?'

With the next tone, a portion of Elphaba's speech appeared; a little later, a third message contained the proposed alterations. Glinda read through both versions three times, frowning deeper at each attempt. She couldn't even remember from which section of the speech Elphaba had taken the original extract.

The phone rang again.

'What do you reckon?'

"Goodness," she muttered to herself, running her hand through her hair.

Why the urgency? Editing Elphaba's initial draft had taken up their entire Sunday up until the point of Glinda's departure in the late afternoon. Quite obviously, Elphaba had returned to her desk the moment the door had closed shut between them. Maybe Glinda should not have insisted on taking the public transport; now she almost felt guilty for not forcing the wayward green girl to take a break from her obsessive working.

She considered ignoring Elphaba's badgering for the time being, but the exact moment she put her phone down, it lit up again. This time, rather than sending another string of messages, Elphaba was actually to calling her.

Making a small sound of disbelief, Glinda answered.

"Look, I'm sorry Elphie," she sighed. "I don't think I can help you right now. I can't think properly, unless I'm undistracted and really in the moment. And at present"—she cast an irritated glance at her blank spreadsheet—"I'm afraid I'm in the middle of something else.

"No, Monday isn't good. I can offer you Wednesday?

"Great. Take a rest until then if you can. But if you can't help yourself, I guess we'll just sort out the resulting mess later."

She grinned at that, considering herself sassy for suggesting that Elphaba might ruin the piece if left to her own devices. Before this very morning, she'd taken her for some kind of infallible genius, too smart and articulate to even comprehend. Realising that even the great Elphaba could become tong tied sometimes narrowed the perceived gap between them somewhat, made Glinda feel at least a tad less inadequate next to her.

Her smile faltered at the next question she received. She bit her lip as she mulled it over.

"Yes, I guess I could stay the night," she eventually replied, not without a measure of reluctance.

Elphaba seemed satisfied with that and finally wished her a restful night.

Glinda replied mechanically, then hung up. Slowly, she moved her hands to press the phone against her chest while her unfocused eyes remained trained on the same spot. Chewing the insides of her cheeks, she reflected on how happy she ought to be to see Elphaba again so soon, and to have been invited for an overnight stay to boot. Strangely, however, she couldn't really decide whether to look forward to the unexpected sleepover or dread it.

She'd forgotten to ask, but fervently hoped Shell wouldn't be there. That was one reason. A fair reason. She also didn't want it to interfere with her work week, but if she retired early enough, this should hardly pose a problem. Her main concern was a strange one: she felt exhausted. Exhausted from dancing around her desire for a serious relationship with Elphaba, simultaneously trying to hide and encourage it. Exhausted from dealing with the effect Elphaba's proximity had on her. After the intensity of their last weekend, she'd found herself in oddly eager anticipation of boring everyday life and a reprieve from anxiety, heart palpations and overstimulation.

Well, so much for that.


"Okay, can you give me a quick rundown before we start?" asked Glinda, script in hand, skimming the first few paragraphs.

"Certainly." Crope cleared his throat melodramatically. "So, Lark is a young man—criminally handsome, but dirt poor. When the Glikkun Wars begin, he enlists for military service to feed his mother and his siblings. His father is long dead, by the way. He does surprisingly well and rises up the ranks, finds a gorgeous girl. During the yearlong truce, they get married and so on and so forth, she falls pregnant, all that sort of stuff. But when the war recommences, he goes back to the front, performs some heroics, ultimately saving hundreds of comrades, then gets killed in the process."

Glinda arched an eyebrow.

"Fun," she deadpanned.

"Don't you rain on my parade!" he scolded, playfully hitting her arm with his bundle of pages. "It's gonna turn out great, you'll see."

"Very dramatic," she said, nodding along with a mockingly grave expression.

"Exactly. I live, breath, exist for the dramatic."

"Yes, that's for sure," she agreed with a smirk. "Fine, let's get started then. From the top, I suppose?"

The melodic ring of her phone alerted her to a new text, but she pointedly ignored it. Whatever it was about could surely wait until after the practice session she'd promised Crope.

Her flatmate regarded her expectantly, and, blissfully unsuspecting, she began to read. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere. His eyes darted towards her phone, futilely trying to gain any information from the locked display. Thus distracted, he missed his cue.

"What the hell, Crope?" Glinda exclaimed exasperatedly, pursing her lips. "How are you supposed to learn your lines if all you're interested in is my private correspondence with whoev—"

"It's from Elphaba," he was quick to inform her after a successful snatching maneuver had brought him into possession of her mobile. "Don't you want to know why she's texting you?"

"Not really." She plucked it out of his hands and unlocked the screen to check anyway. "Huh. Don't know if you were expecting a love letter or something, 'cause she's just asking when to pick me up tomorrow, see?"

Turning the phone around so he could read the message, she hoped to quell his curiosity, but her plan inevitably backfired.

"Oh, so you're going to her place again?" he cried, clapping his hands in excitement. "Like you didn't just spend the entire weekend together? My word, this girl might not have asked you out properly yet, but she sure is clingy."

"This is not much different from those weeks when I stayed at hers to prepare for the rally," retorted Glinda with a shrug. "It's strictly business. We're working on a speech for her to give at some conference."

"Yeah, she might want to work on her pretexts some more," he nodded with a silly grin. "After all, she knows very well how illiterate you are when it comes to subtle cues."

Glinda let out an exasperated breath.

"Or maybe her 'pretexts'"—she used her fingers to indicate quotation marks—"are no pretexts at all. Maybe, you're just reading way too much into it."

Crope tsked, shaking his head.

"How about I remind you of those days in the not so distant past when that was exactly what you kept insisting on, even though literally everyone else told you that you had a crush on her." He levelled her with a stern look before firmly resting his hand on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. "Just reading into it? Yeah, right. Listen to your friends, sweetie, we're always right."

"Whatever," she said with finality, brushing off his hand and stuffing her phone in her bra to keep it securely out of his reach. "Lines. Now. Or I'll find something else to do."

"But you haven't replied to her yet," he piped up in one last attempt. Yet when she threatened to get up and leave, he quickly reached for his script and began to recite the half memorised, half read text.

They made good progress, although Glinda seemed to pick up the dialogues faster than he did. About an hour in, they were interrupted by Tibbet's return.

"Glinda's gonna be at Elphie's again tomorrow," Crope immediately announced to his boyfriend, as if those were the most important news of the day. After a brief exchange of comically serious looks, both boys began to titter.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" shouted Glinda, throwing her hands up in frustration.


Elphaba did not waste any time beating around the bush. The moment they arrived at her house, she dragged Glinda to her study. A second chair was already waiting for her. Most likely, it hadn't even been moved since the weekend. Elphaba pulled on a curious blue sash next to the window that Glinda had always thought part of the décor, then returned to her desk to slide the latest edition of their little project in Glinda's direction.

"I haven't edited it too much, but have a careful read anyway, so you can appreciate the nuances of the changes and let me know if it all works the way I intended."

Glinda nodded and did as she was asked—not only once, but four times. After her second read, she did a double take when the office door suddenly opened, and a white Dog entered. Glinda realised that she must be the domestic aide that Elphaba had spoken of before, but she was certainly not what she'd expected.

A pet dog of similar size would have been considered large, albeit nothing overly unusual, due to the fact that its head would be positioned considerably lower than its owners'. Yet, as one of those Animals who had adopted the bipedal stance of humans, this Dog appeared huge, easily towering Elphaba. Glinda had to admit that, if she'd met her in an alley after sundown, she'd undoubtedly have been quite terrified. Which was probably part of the reason why all the other bigger Animals she knew, like Brrr or Calive, opted to walk on all fours like their wild counterparts. After all, intimidating humans who were already uncomfortable in their presence was not the best way to blend in in society.

"You called, Miss?" the maid asked in a voice that seemed far too soft and mellow for such an imposing creature.

Elphaba looked up from her laptop and smiled uneasily.

"Yes. I'm sorry to interrupt your work. But we're quite busy here, and it would be incredibly helpful if you could bring us a cuppa and some biscuits."

The Dog's tail wagged happily.

"No need to apologise, Miss. That's what I'm paid to do." Turning towards Glinda, she asked how she would like her tea.

The blonde quickly made up an order, not truly caring about the final result, as long as her reply didn't make her sound alarmed or ignorant, or both.

"Wow, she's giant," she whispered to herself once they were alone again. Noticing the way Elphaba was looking at her, she realised that her friend had definitely overheard her little utterance, and she blushed in embarrassment.

"Her entire family, are considerably shorter than her. Including her brother," Elphaba told her distractedly as she continued typing. "They are all bipedal, so that's how she grew up. Her parents divorced because her father was convinced that his wife must have had an affair. Yet, according to doctors, her unexpected height is no more than a genetic fluke."

"I'm sorry," mumbled Glinda. "I didn't mean to sound rude. It's none of my business, really, and her stature has nothing to do with anything, I suppose. I was just surprised."

"It's okay." Elphaba glanced over the top of her screen to give her a reassuring look. "You're getting there. At least you didn't comment on it right in front of her, and you covered your shock well."

"Did I?" Glinda asked skeptically.

"Well… no, not really. But you obviously tried," replied Elphaba with a smirk before she went back to her work, and Glinda returned to her reading.

She was happy to acknowledge that the speech had come a long way since its first, undeniably ungainly inception. In fact, she was almost tempted to give it her seal of approval and start Elphaba on rehearsing. Looking up from the pages, she watched Elphaba typing away on her laptop, wondering what verdict she should deliver.

The words 'good enough' came to her mind. That was exactly what it was. The script was good enough, but nowhere close to perfect. Elphaba was no perfectionist, but when it came to advocating for Animals, perfection was what she inevitably had to strive for. They knew to expect a tough crowd. Nothing short of perfection could possibly even begin to move those gross, bigoted politicians and businessmen Elphaba was so worried about.

Sighing, Glinda set aside the paper, folded her arms and waited for Elphaba to take notice. When she finally did, Elphaba closed her laptop.

"Thoughts?" she prompted, looking adorably concerned.

"It's pretty good," smiled Glinda and paused. "But we need to do better. Too much is riding on this. Plus—and please, please know that I really don't mean this per—"

"The persuasiveness of the speech needs to make up for this," interrupted Elphaba, pointing at herself.

Flustered, Glinda's face flushed red.

"Um… yes. That's kinda what I was going to say."

Her immediate instinct was to lower her gaze in embarrassment, but she deliberately decided not to look away, trying to make the point that, for her, there was nothing repulsive about Elphaba's appearance.

To Glinda the silent staring that followed seemed to last forever, but in reality, it must have been over in mere seconds.

Elphaba was the first to avert her eyes, clearing her voice and taking out her own copy of the text.

"Okay. Any specific suggestions?"

"Not yet," Glinda admitted. "Could you try and read it out for me?"

Elphaba tapped the pages against her desk and began to open her mouth when Glinda stopped her with a small wave of her hand.

"No, Elphie, I meant similar to the way you'd read it for an audience. I know we haven't practiced yet, but that's not important right now."

Elphaba's brows knitted, but she nodded slowly and reluctantly stood.

"It's just that reciting a piece usually helps highlighting its flaws," Glinda continued to explain the exact moment Elphaba started to speak.

The green girl rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Would you mind?" she said impatiently.

Fighting hard to suppress a giggle, Glinda apologised and motioned for her to go ahead.


They did not manage to make it to bed by nine o'clock as Glinda had planned. On a positive note, Glinda felt a lot more confident in their project than a few hours earlier. At the very least, she was convinced that she was giving Elphaba the best chance she'd ever had at impressing her audience. She'd still have to coach her as far as her life performance was concerned, but now that the script was finished, three weeks seemed like ample time to polish every little aspect of Elphaba's delivery. And her wardrobe. While Elphaba was used to dressing in formal attire for work, Glinda considered her fashion sense more than questionable. An expensive shopping spree seemed inevitable at this point. The real trick would be to persuade Elphaba to willingly submit to this kind of torture.

To make up for their late bedtime the previous night, Elphaba drove Glinda to the office, even though it meant that she herself would be late for her own work by over an hour. She told Glinda not to worry about it, but that was easier said than done. Perhaps it was time for her to dig out that voucher her parents had gifted her and start her driving lessons.

Elphaba stopped the car in front of the building. Bag in hand, Glinda was ready to jump out quickly in order to not further hold up her friend. When the locks didn't click open as expected, she gave Elphaba a puzzled look.

"If you've got time, I could pick you up again in the afternoon?" Elphaba muttered, scratching the back of her neck.

For a moment, Glinda was lost for words. In light of the progress they'd made, continuing to tweak this speech even more seemed unnecessary to her, maybe bordering on excessive. As far as rehearsing was concerned, Elphaba would be very well able to practice by herself until the weekend at the very least. There was little use for Glinda's advice until she'd internalised most of her monologue.

A faint echo of Crope's talk about pretexts and subtle cues resonated in her head, but she swiftly dismissed the notion. Elphaba was just feeling out of her depth and anxious about it all. She probably wasn't used to not being immediately good at something. Her excellence must have been something of a counterweight to her superficial imperfections. Glinda totally got that. In some way they weren't too dissimilar. And she had to confess that she secretly adored being needed by Elphaba. At least to some degree. Nonetheless, at this point, the best way to reassure her was to show her that she could do it on her own, that she didn't totally depended on Glinda's help.

"I'm afraid you're on your own tonight," she replied, reaching out to give Elphaba's hand a fleeting squeeze. "I've got appointments today, and Oz knows, I won't leave this dreadful building before seven or so, trying to keep up with everything else."

She laughed to keep it light. Making Elphaba feel bad for taking up so much of her time was not really part of her plan.

"Anyway. You'll be fine. Practice your lines, and we'll fine-tune everything else later." Goodness, this was almost like talking to Crope.

Elphaba's lips twitched as she quietly nodded her head.

"Let me know how it goes, alright?"

Their eyes met and small smiles formed on both faces.

Elphaba unlocked the doors, and Glinda jumped out of the car, waving enthusiastically as the car pulled out of the parking bay.


Elphaba had done her homework diligently and, by the time they met up again on Saturday, knew every single word by heart. Initially, Glinda was satisfied with that and began giving her directions to be more emotional, to project more and to add more pauses. Yet, despite following all of the advice to the best of her ability, Elphaba still didn't come across as convincing as Glinda would have liked, and it began to worry her.

"Look, Elphie, we both know that you have the memorising part down to a T. But you need to put more emphasis on your acting."

"I am," insisted Elphaba, dropping down onto the couch next to her.

"Are not," sighed Glinda, shaking her head tiredly. "I've seen better from you before, so I know where your baseline is. For today, I'd like to reach at least that threshold. After that, we still have more than two weeks left and we'll need that time to improve your performance beyond what you're already capable of. Let's face it, your current best is not really good enough in this case."

Elphaba's indignant scoff was plenty of evidence that she was getting quite fed up with the entire procedure, but she stopped short of actually voicing her protest. What choice did she have when she knew that Glinda was one hundred percent right and there was no way around it?

"One more time," Glinda commanded with false cheerfulness, pestering Elphaba with her rolled up paper until she got off her seat. "Visualise the audience before you. Speak like this is the real deal."

Elphaba turned around sluggishly. Glinda shot her a little glare and nodded approvingly when she corrected her posture.

"Let's talk about our wonderful Oz. Let's talk about its good citizens. Let's talk about why, by default, just under half of them were excluded from attending this event, excluded—"

"Stop."

Another groan from Elphaba.

"I'm sorry, but there is no point dragging yourself through the entire speech with this level of energy. Be more passionate."

"Passionate," Elphaba repeated under her breath, rolling her eyes. She took a deep breath and began anew. "Let's talk about our wonderful Oz."

"Elphiiiiee!"

Frustrated, Glinda flopped backwards, arms spread out over the backrest of the couch.

"What?"

"Save that attitude for later! You don't want to alienate your audience the first chance you get, do you?"

"They are a bunch of pricks," the green girl humphed sullenly.

"Yet, for the sake of this speech, you must pretend they are innocent souls, waiting to be converted. Try again."

"Let's talk about our wonderful Oz. Let's talk about its good citizens. Let's talk about why… by default"—she paused there, biting her lower lip—"just under half of them were excluded from attending this event, excluded from presenting their appeals, their concerns. Let's talk about why it is I, rather than one of their own, who is standing before you today to represent them."

By the time she'd reached the third sentence, her voice had risen considerably, and Glinda once more began shaking her head. A few words later, she was practically trembling.

"Elphie," Glinda said softly, then got up and walked over to her when this wasn't good enough. She took her hand and patted it gently. "You can't get yourself worked up like this before even finishing the introduction of your speech. You'd never get through the entire thing in one piece. Besides, it looked almost like you were about to throw a tamper tantrum. Nobody takes toddlers seriously; don't act like one."

Jerking away her hand, Elphaba stomped off into the direction of the kitchen.

"This is ridiculous," she spat.

"Not ridiculous!" Glinda called after her. "Just difficult. Now stop acting so childishly."

When it became evident that Elphaba did not intend on returning to the drawing room, Glinda slumped her shoulders and, with a deep sigh, made to follow her. She found her leaning against the counter, grumpily sipping on a cup of coffee.

"Elphie." She watched her for a clock-tick, then turned around to make herself a drink as well. "I know you like to be unapologetically you," she began, still with her back to her friend. "And I think that's wonderful. But there are times when it's simply not what the situation requires."

"People see me as an abomination. Unlike others, I can't act my way out of it. My defects are impossible to hide."

"Sure," Glinda agreed. "People are bound to notice your peculiarities, judge you even. Goodness knows I did, too. But upon closer acquaintance, shock quickly turned into curiosity, and here we are: several months in, and I'm still hanging out with you."

"You are the exception," Elphaba deflected half-heartedly.

"What about Brrr and his bunch?" insisted Glinda.

"Animals tend to be more accepting, because they know what it's like to be ostracised."

"Sarima and Boq?"

Elphaba shrugged.

"Just two more exceptions. My circle of friends still isn't particularly impressive."

"Well, these are the only ones who were able to see beyond your gruff front. If you'd just be a little nicer to people in general…"

"My father hates me," interjected Elphaba, noisily placing her cup on the counter and stomping out of the kitchen. This time, Glinda followed her immediately.

"And your great-grandfather wants you to become the next Eminent Thropp. Just because some individuals hate you, it doesn't mean that you have to expect to be hated by everyone."

Elphaba stopped in her tracks then and whirled around.

"Do you think I can change now? Do you think growing up like this has not left some sort of permanent damage? Besides, I've come to like who I am. Fuck those who disagree!"

With that she was gone again, trudging up the stairs.

"I don't want to change you!" Glinda panted, taking two steps at a time to keep up with her. "I'm only trying to show you how it can be helpful at times to adjust a little."

"Why don't you give that damn speech then, Miss Perfect? You seem to know everything anyway. Why train the green freak to speak like an accomplished society monkey? For entertainment? For the thrill of a really good challenge?"

The door to Elphaba's room closed with a hard bang, leaving Glinda to stare at it, stupefied. She blinked in disbelief, then an unmistakable flicker of anger reared up deep down, threatening to set fire to her belly. She couldn't allow it to overwhelm her, but Elphaba wasn't making it easy on her.

"Elphaba Thropp! Open the damn door and move your ass back downstairs! Now."

She wailed in frustration, but not a noise betrayed whether Elphaba had even heard her on the other side.

With a huff, she sat down on the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs and drawing them close to her body. Her eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the door. Angry puffs of air expelled through her nostrils. How dare she make those preposterous allegations? After all, Glinda was only here to help. She was sacrificing her precious time for this, because Elphaba had asked her to. If she couldn't even give her opinion, what was she doing here in the first place?

She thought of leaving. Maybe it would be best if she just let it go. Elphaba would be fine. She'd do her speech in two weeks' time and it would be okay, even if it wasn't as good as it should be. The world would keep turning, and Elphaba would get over it. Had there ever been much hope for this speech to change anything to begin with? It was an opportunity the Animal community could not simply miss out on, but what were the chances that it would really make a difference?

After about fifteen minutes of waiting, thought finally became decision. Clumsily, she staggered to her feet, wiggling her toes until feeling returned to them. Downstairs in the entrance hall, she took painfully long to put on her shoes and locate her bag, almost as though she wanted to give Elphaba every chance to come out of her room and prevent her from leaving. If that was indeed the case, however, her plan came to nothing, as the stubborn girl failed to emerge.

A heavy sadness fell over her as she carefully closed the heavy quoxwood door. Her hands rested on the handle for a while before she turned around and left in the direction of the tram station. She hoped this little quarrel would soon be forgotten and have no greater impact on their friendship. They'd come out alright after previous fights, she knew, but some residual fear still persisted.

She didn't bother telling Fiyero ahead of time that she'd arrive a lot earlier than originally discussed, surprising him when she stood in front of his door just after noon. She'd grabbed some takeout on the way though and was welcomed accordingly.

"Don't think I don't appreciate getting to spend more time with you—or the delicious lunch," said Fiyero, promptly stuffing another piece of flat bread in his mouth,"—but how come you're so early? You're not getting bored of Elphaba, are you?"

Glinda wasn't eating. Fiyero had given her a plate, but she had yet to put any food on it.

"We had a minor disagreement regarding her speech-thingy," she admitted sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

"Oh."

"Yeah. But please don't ask for details. We'll be fine. We just needed to get out of each other's space for a bit, you know?"

He frowned thoughtfully, but nodded.

Fiyero finished the entire meal without any help from Glinda. They watched some TV, then went on a quick shopping trip to the nearby supermarket. After dinner (paid for by Glinda, but cooked by Fiyero, for both of their safety), she went to the bathroom to have a shower and brush her teeth. When she returned, Fiyero was holding her phone in his hand, staring at it in concentration.

"What's up?" she asked apprehensively as she stepped closer.

"Oh. You're back."

Smiling, he held the phone out for her to grab. The screen was blank. It didn't seem likely that he'd been rummaging through her messages or other private content, leaving her to wonder why he'd mess with it at all.

"Elphaba called," he explained when she cast him a suspicious glance.

"R—Really?"

This came somewhat unexpected. She almost dropped her phone as she scrambled to pull up her missed call history.

"Yup," he confirmed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "And she said she's sorry, by the way."

Now that came totally unexpected.

"You mean—you mean you actually answered?!" she demanded in a terribly high pitched tone of voice. "What the heck, Fiyero!"

Mortified, she hit the shortcut for Elphaba and took the call outside to the balcony, where he was less likely to overhear their exchange. The waiting signal rang out at least a dozen times, causing Glinda's insides to churn anxiously. With every tone, she vowed to hang up after the next, but, in the end, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

At long last, the tooting stopped and was replaced by a rustling noise.

"Elphie?" Glinda squeaked hopefully, holding her breath.

The pause that followed was brief, yet almost unbearable.

"Glinda."

She exhaled in relief and chuckled quietly.

"Um, Fiyero told me you called," she said, playing with a blonde curl, twirling it around her finger.

"Did he now?"

Elphaba sounded amused. For a second, Glinda wondered about the conversation they must have had. She'd have to remember to give him a proper dressing-down later. Seriously, the cheek of him!

Equally infuriatingly, the girl on the other end of the line did not seem inclined to move this conversation along at a steady pace. Evidently, it was up to Glinda to do all the hard work and worm the words out of her.

"He said that… you wanted to apologise."

Oz, it felt weird to say it out loud. But what choice did Elphaba leave her? The subsequent pause didn't make it any better.

"Well, that's interesting," Elphaba said at last.

"What?" Glinda's face suddenly felt cold as the blood drained from her cheeks. "Wait, you don't mean…" She swallowed hard. "Oh shit. You—you didn't actually call, did you?"

She turned around to fire a fierce glare at Fiyero through the window. He, on the other hand, quite obviously pretended not to pay any attention to the goings-on right outside his apartment.

"Shit. By Oz, he's such an idiot!" she cursed mildly, rubbing her forehead.

Elphaba appeared to take delight in the situation. Or her misery. Glinda wasn't sure whether she should be glad for it or angry, and didn't say anything for a little while. This time, it was her friend who deigned to pick up the conversation.

"Well," she began, taking an audible breath. "Now that I've got you on the phone, I might just as well apologise."

"For real?" Glinda wasn't sure if she'd heard that right. This seemed almost too easy.

"Yeah. For real. I didn't exactly react as maturely as you'd expect from a woman of almost thirty."

"And I'm sorry for pushing you so hard," Glinda immediately responded. While she'd not been willing to be the first to admit any wrongdoing, she'd certainly craved an opportunity to get this guilt off her chest.

"Are you coming back tomorrow?" Elphaba was quick to enquire, uncharacteristically eager.

Her enthusiasm almost made it seem cruel for Glinda to decline. Yet, she thought it the right thing to do.

"I gave you every advice at my disposal, Elphie," she told her. "It would probably be better if I left you to sort out the rest."

"What if we don't rehearse?" rebutted Elphaba. "There's something I need to ask you. Can you not come so we can talk?"

Glinda's heart gave an involuntary flutter. Her mouth went dry.

"Like what?" she managed to say, but barely.

"I'd rather not spring it on you right now, over the phone."

"Oh. Okay."

"So… are you coming?

"Glinda?"

The blonde swallowed hard. Her tongue felt too thick and heavy.

"Yeah, I guess," she finally said, then cleared her voice. "I mean, yes. I'll come. For half an hour or so. I have plans… with Fiyero."

"Sounds good. See you tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow. Yes. Cool.

"Bye."

"Bye."