Disclaimer: No, the storyline doesn't belong to me and I still don't get why I have to type this atop every single darn chapter.

THE DREAMER

One thing about Gazza: he never seems to just shut up.

I don't know how long we walked through the abandoned streets – it was still dark, although sometimes there were streetlights, flickering, but still working for some odd reason – but it had been a while already.

And all the time Gazza was talking.

I mean, I understand that he, like me, must have had nobody to really talk to for a long while, but seriously? I was practically a total stranger to him, and yet he yapped on and on with the abandon of an eager puppy with a new toy.

Which for a while had been cute, but it really got annoying.

Especially now that he got to talking about the stuff in his head. He grew more exited the more he talked and talked more as his excitement grew.

Still I remained mostly silent – for one, because as long as he talked about himself, I wouldn't have to talk about me, but also because there never was the opportunity to say something with him always talking.

Finally, as we reached a hole in the mesh that lead to an abandoned car dump, he running ahead, me trotting behind, wondering why the heck I did, my patience ran thin.

"All my life, I mean, all my life, I always felt that I had a sort of" he jumped through the fence, looking conspiratorial "purpose, y' know? Some sort of… special destiny, or something!" Laughing, he finally turned back to me as I climbed through the hole. "That has to mean something, surely!"

At that point I was positively annoyed. And tired. And hungry. And slightly cold. Altogether not in a very good mood. "Well, it does!" And that was when my sarcasm was at its best. Or worst, when you were on the receiving end. "That you're a self-important, arrogant asshole!"

He stopped, his elated grin fading to shock, and then to hurt.

Please, not those eyes again! His disappointed, slightly betrayed look made me want to make amends.

I couldn't lay off the sarcasm, though.

"Right… What 'special destiny'?" I rolled my eyes – I hated that he seemed to be able to so easily sway me – and he, for once, seemed serious. His voice was down to a normal level at least, and he wasn't squeaking in excitement.

"It has to do with the stuff I dream!" he explained, walking back to me, and again I rolled my eyes at him. Of course it did.

Gazza actually looked as if he was thinking seriously about the stuff he dreamed for once, slightly confused. "The phrases, they – they always come back to the same thing!" Of course they did. And then he got excited, channelling the puppy again. He stared into empty space, dragging me over as if to share a view of something he could clearly picture. Someone should tell him that I didn't read frigging minds! He spread his arms, indicating space. "Well, I see a great, wide space," I got that, thank you. Self-consciously, I rubbed my arm where he had touched me only moments before. I wasn't used to touches. He blabbered on, oblivious. "And people, people everywhere! And noise, huge, huge noise!" He looked positively thrilled, and I wondered again why I stayed. Wiping his nose in excitement, he continued, "And then, then come the words!"

He stopped, and I knew he was giving me the opportunity to say something impressed. Only that I wasn't, and was in a really bad mood, so all I could give him was a very dry "Oh, what words?"

This time he actually noticed, and his expression was a bit strained. I coughed, overplaying the awkward feeling in my stomach and played the attentive listener again. It seemed to appease him as he told me.

"Seek out the place of living rock!" Yeah, sure. Living Rocks. "A bright, bright star will lead the way –" Who the hell still knew how to navigate by stars, and which stars were still bright enough? Seriously! But Gazza wasn't finished spouting nonsense. A desperate, hopeful, longing look crossed his face as he ended. "Go, to where the champions played!"

The hopeful longing remained, and I thought it was high time someone pulled him back to the ground. And so, quite seriously, I turned to him, like something just occurred to me – he turned, hopeful – "Sounds like Bullocks to me!"

Indignation crossed his features again, but also a little doubt about the words he just said. "Maybe…" Well, at least he started to think. A bit. I wandered away from him, when his once more excited voice stopped me. "You know, I dreamt a name for you, too, I think!"

It was so obvious he wanted to switch the topic, but it worked. Not in a way he would have liked, I bet, though.

I got suspicious of him again. Scowling slightly, I asked "How would you do that? You only met me today?" As far as I knew... I mean, was it coincidence that we had been placed in the same hospital room? The one it probably was easiest to flee from?

He looked a bit bashful, but happy. "Oh, well, yeah, b-but I always knew that I'd meet you!" That grin spread over his face again, a spark lightening up his green eyes. There was no way in hell that all this innocence was a trick. I smiled a bit, and the spark grew. "I always knew there was another, uhm, rebel rebel out there!" I liked the sound of that. Rebel. Not misfit or freak. A rebel. "Another wild thing!" He continued, elatedly bouncing over, tickling my stomach.

Touching me again.

I moved away, just not used to casual, playful touches like those. They gave me a strange feeling in my stomach. "Okay… so what do you wanna call me?" I was considered dead, anyway, so what did my name count now? Not that I ever liked it, anyway. Why not give it a shot? I looked up, expectantly.

Obviously pleased with himself, he answered.

"Scaramouche!"

I should have remembered who I was talking to.

"Scaramouche?" I laughed, a bit uneasily, and his expression grew smug. "Isn't that a bit…" how to say it... "C r a p!"

That took him down a peg, and now he looked embarrassed – and the slightest bit annoyed.

"Well, I DID dream some others, but frankly, I thought it was the best!" was his defensive response.

I remained sceptical. "Yeah, well, what were the others?" Maybe there was a nicer one among them.

I should have known better by now.

Gazza was reluctant to answer, looking like even he thought nothing of those names and the moment he opened his mouth I knew why. They were ridiculous! And unfitting.

"Long Tall Sally" I'm rather small, and Sally seemed so... goody-two-shoes.

"Honky Tonk Woman," that's not even a name, and what the hell is a Honky Tonk? Seeing my face, he snorted and went on.

"Lucy in the sky with diamonds," Lucy was a nice name – too nice. Plus the fact that I am not hanging around up there and all I know about diamonds is that they glitter.

I don't like glitter.

I threw Gazza another look – he obviously wasn't finished yet – and he glanced at me, pleading, unsure, but said it anyway.

"Or – uh – fat bottomed girl."

Now that was too much. I don't like my behind, but I am not fat!

Besides, that was another name-that-is-none.

"Okay, I'll take Scaramouche!"

He rolled his eyes – never knew he could do that as well – and shrugged, as if to say 'Well, told you so!', and I pondered my new name a bit. "Scaramouche!"

I called it out to the deserted car dump, letting it roll off my tongue – the sharp start that softened out, the foreign compilation of syllables, listening to the way it filled the wrecks surrounding us.

Getting used to it.

And something fell into place. "Actually, I quite like it."

Gazza relaxed noticeably. A smile worked itself onto my lips, and I knew my eyes lit with a fierce fire of their own as I thought of the possibilities... "Sounds kind of… Anarchic!" I hit the air in enthusiasm and heard Gazza chuckle that short, elated little laugh of his as he came closer again – now that he no longer had anything to fear...

Then something occurred to me.

The name... The sound of it –. "It's almost like what I think", for I only ever read the description to that word – "they used to call," I turned to Gazza, holding up a finger to point out the significance of it "a 'tune'!"

"A tune…" He got a faraway look in his eyes as he pondered the word "Yes…" then something seemed to click in his head and he grew excited again. "Oh…Scaramouche – Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?"

Will I do the what?

He almost kneeled before me, hands outstretched in a pleading gesture, his expression almost desperate, and I had no idea what the hell he wanted from me.

Except...

"Are you trying to get in my pants?" He was a boy, after all.

He recoiled, spluttering indignantly.

"NO!"

His reaction was so surprised and immediate that I believed him, but still – "What's doing the fandango?" I demanded to know hands stemmed into my hips. He laughed, nervously, and I got why he looked so desperate before – he wondered what it was, too, and hoped that I would know what it was, since the name was mine now. Since that bubble was burst he now proceeded to guess.

"I-I think perhaps – perhaps it's dancing!"

So it was dancing now, of all things? Well, tough luck with that one. Me and dancing. Pah!

"So you mean like Gaga Moves?" I was pissed now. I thought he liked them as little as I did? "Oh, well, excuse me while I" mimicking retching I doubled over, earning me a shocked look from Gazza as he took a cautious step back when I came back up "P U K E! Globalsoft write the song" I mimicked writing as he tried to get in between my rant and me – in vain – "And work out the steps" I mock-danced a few of those silly moves I never had bothered to learn "And every kid on Planet Mall does exactly the same thing!" Which, besides my inability to move according to the steps, was another factor why I never bothered learning them.

Gazza tried to placate me. And to defend himself.

"No, I – I think that there was a time when, when dancing wasn't like that!" It seemed easier for him to sort out his thoughts when he was trying to explain them to me. "When it was more, uhm free! You know, kind of" there was this faraway look again "individually expressive..."

Gazza then proceeded to do – something. Holding his left hand to his side as if he held a stick across his stomach – a bit lower, actually – he strummed the air in front with his right hand fingers, running up and down the dump, obviously enjoying himself quite a bit, until he fell to his knees in a grand gesture, heavily breathing, eyes closed, with a stupid grin on his face. Waiting for my opinion, or so it seemed. Well, that he could have.

"Well, I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so embarrassing in my life!"

And I was being totally, completely serious here.

He looked indignant again, but luckily the kicked puppy was only very, very light in his features. I guess he knew how hilarious he looked, because he grew defensive.

"Well, it looks better when I'm holding a Tennis racket!" Well, that explained the strange way he held his hands, at least. His fingers playing the air where they had had looked – strange, to say the least.

"It would have to!" Seriously, I think I'd rather dance Gaga.

Gazza got up. "Well, l-look, maybe doing the fandango" changing the topic, are we? Smooth, Very smooth - not "is just about being friends!"

That stunned me. That and his sudden close proximity.

"Friends?" I edged away, slightly uncomfortable, again. I was not used to being near someone, and the last time he was that near... "Weeeell, I never had a 'friend'..." which was the truth, and a slip-up, since I kind of lost concentration for a bit, and Gazza misunderstood. His eyes lost the hopeful shimmer and grew hurt. Not like the kicked Puppy before. A real hurt, harsh and bitter. He turned, walked away.

"You amaze me." His voice dripped with sarcasm, surprising me.

Hurting me a bit, and I felt ashamed. He had been nothing but open and I had been a bitch. A bitch afraid to let him in, but I did not want him to leave. So before I lost my nerve, I opened up a bit.

"Always thought I'd quite like one, though…" My voice had been soft, but it stopped him dead in his tracks. He turned back around, a hopeful glimmer once more alight in his eyes.

"So… we…ARE friends, then?" he asked, gesturing between me and him, sounding as if what he heard was too good to be true.

"If you want!" I rolled my eyes, trying to sound indifferent. Trying not to let him hear how much it would mean to me. I am crappy at this whole emotional stuff, always have been.

"Oh… I do, I really do!" Gazza perked up, almost running towards me, his arms slightly raised.

Oh, no, no hugs! I backed away.

"Okay, then!" Trying to stop his enthusiasm a bit, although I realized that I had almost missed the excited puppy he now channelled again. "So we're friends!" My mock-excited tone was hard to achieve because deep down I felt at least as giddy as he looked. Did I mention that I am crap at expressing emotions? Gazza went unfazed by it, too caught up in his own happiness.

"This is SO cool!" The goofy grin seemed to be permanent, and it made me edgy. I had to get him down a peg or he would be impossible for the next few hours.

"S long as you get to work on the dancing!" I spat in an effort to quell his enthusiasm (and because I never wanted to see that again), but a cry startled us both before he even had the time to process what I said.

"Let's get them!" a female voice shouted, and suddenly they were upon us. All I got was a flurry of long, untamed blonde hair and short, dark clothes, then the woman was upon me – hell, she was strong – and I only had time to reach my hand up to my chin when I felt her slinging a string around my neck. Gazza shouted – I think he ordered her to let me go – and started towards us when he was blocked by a heavy-muscled black guy in a – skirt? The guy pushed Gaz towards the broken down Van they probably had been hiding behind, having a hard time because Gazza tried to get to me again as I struggled against the hold the woman had on me. I heard Gazza hit the Van and struggled harder, resulting in the woman pulling at the string around my neck.

"Quick, bitch, where did your boyfriend get those words?" she demanded hotly in a heavy Scottish accent, and I was confused

"What words?" And what boyfriend, for that matter?

"Well, he calls you Scaramouche!" If you listened in on us, then why do you call him my boyfriend? "He's read the fragments! He knows the holy words!" Holy what? Which fragments? Gazza? What the hell is going on?

Gazza still struggled against the hold of the black man, although his confusion lessened his efforts quite a bit. "I don't know any holy texts! I-I don't know what you're talking about!" I never guessed I would ever see Gazza angry, but now he was. Well, at least annoyed, but still.

"Long Tall Sally!" the black guy spat and Gazza started. "Honky-Tonk Woman! The words, man! The words from the past!" The green eyes were wide as saucers by now as Gazza realized that somehow these guys knew the nonsense names he thought he dreamed up. From the past, where they? Blondie chimed in, screaming right into my ear.

"You've seen the fragments! You've been to the Heartbreak Hotel!" To the what, please? "You're a spy!" My head whipped around to Gazza. I had thought of that before... my chest felt constricted as I silently prayed for my suspicions to be scattered. My eyes must have betrayed my thoughts, since Gazza looked slightly panicked as he looked at me and back to the black guy who still held him pressed up against the Van.

"No, I-I-I really don't know what you're talking about!" I could tell he was frightened, he started to laugh nervously, and I feared a mental breakdown. Which, by the way was not the best way to prove that he was trustworthy. "I" – another nervous, high-pitched laugh, followed by an escape attempt that was quickly stopped by the black guy slamming him back into the side of the Van – "I-I-I just hear these things in my head, that's all!"

"Who are you?" The man in the skirt obviously had enough. He screamed at Gazza and pressed him even tighter to the Van, probably one of the reasons Gazza breathed so hard. The other being fear. Which also became obvious as Gazza practically squealed "I don't know!" and turned his head away, pressing his eyes shut. When he opened them again to glance at the man in front of him, he looked positively mad. "Why do people keep asking me that?" Geez, that boy had almost as much venom in his voice as me! Who'd have guessed?

And then that odd look crossed his face again and I knew what was coming.

Phrases in his head.

Boy, was I ever right.

"I am the walrus!" The man jumped back, looking shocked, the woman behind me flinched, and Gazza looked at the sky, looking like even he was wondering what the hell he just said. But the raving wasn't over. "This is Major Tom to Ground Control!" This is who to what? "Can you hear the drums, Fernando?" I looked at the woman behind me as she and the man looked around, confused, and wondered who the hell Fernando was. "I am" the booming voice drew our eyes back to Gazza, who pointed at the black guy with a challenging glint in the eyes – "The dancing Queen!"

Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you sleep at night.

"You" the voice of the man seemed to wake Gazza from a haze, as he looked down at his outstretched finger and quickly drew it back, seeming like he wondered what the hell just happened. But at least the man seemed to speak in a normal way now, if slightly frazzled. "You just hear these holy words? In your head?" I still wondered how this load of useless phrases was anything remotely holy, but Gaz had calmed down.

"Yes. I–I don't know where they come from." He looked lost, and confused. "It's driving me mad, all those phrases and sounds, stupid, useless phrases…" Well, at least he knew they were stupid "I mean, what the hell is a Tambourine Man?" he asked, turning to the woman behind me, which only resulted in her flinching and drawing the string tighter against my hands that still tried to protect my throat from being constricted. "What's the story, morning glory?" Despite our precarious situation I grinned a bit as he turned to the man with that question. Yeah, that guy was a real little ball of sunshine. "Who was the real slim Shady?" But with every phrase I felt Blondie behind me lean in a little more, dropping the string until it was in front of my chest, saw a comprehension dawn on the man's face. Gazza went on, oblivious. "It's torture! But… All I know," Blondie leaned in more, the Guy scanned his face even closer, and I saw the faraway look cross Gazza's features again. Great. "And I don't even know why I know it, is that I really, really, REALLY wanna zig-a-zig- ah!" I felt Blondie recoil, but I hardly felt the pull at my chest due to staring at Gazza in utter exasperation.

It was official.

That guy was completely bonkers.

I mean, first a fandango, now a zig-a-zig-ah (whatever that was supposed to be). And he looked like a lovesick seal, blinking up towards the sky, hands crossed in front of him.

The black guy looked taken aback, then thoughtful, then decisive. He took great strides towards us, calling out "Meat!" (what was that all about) and pulled the woman, who looked uncomfortable with letting me go, away from me. I snarled at her. Try a rope around your neck and see how uncomfortable you feel then! The two of them argued under their breaths and I went to Gazza, who slowly came out of his phrase-induced haze, to see if he was alright. He looked at me with a worried gaze, raising his hand as if to touch my neck, pulling back at the last moment as I fidgeted a bit. It was somehow – sweet. First trying to rescue me, then worrying if I got hurt... coming from him, it was a bit pointless, really, but sweet nonetheless. I dropped my head to hide my embarrassment when I heard the woman exclaim:

"Well, test him!" Geez, Venom much? "And his chick!"

Now wait just a clock-tick.

"His 'CHICK'?" I felt more than saw Gazza take a few steps back at my fury. Well, he knew me a bit by then, I guess. Even the black guy stopped dead in his tracks, while Blondie remained unfazed. "What am I now, poultry?" No answer. Blondie still looked haughty; her guy at least looked a bit cautious now. I turned back to Gazza, annoyed. "Chick!" I mumbled under my breath. I would strangle whoever came up with that.

Gazza maintained the safety distance (that is to say, out of my reach) and tried being brave.

"Hey, I-I-I don't have to prove myself to you!"

It was a nice try, really, only the stuttering kind of ruined the effect, so the only reaction we got was a bossy "TEST him!" from the woman. Gazza and I shared a nervous look – what did they want to test? –, but then I decided, 'Hey, this is him they want to test, so I might as well enjoy the show and save his ass if needed", scooted closer to him under the pretence of wanting to lean on the open window of the Van behind us and watched as the guy stood up a little straighter, took a deep breath – and sang.

"Mama – just killed a man

Put a gun against his head

Pulled my trigger, now he's dead"

It wasn't anything like the singing I had been doing with Gazza. That had been music pouring out of him, through us. As it had been my first time singing – an outlet for pressure and emotion. This was not. The guy sang, and it was completely deliberate. He knew what he was doing, and I was kind of surprised since his voice was a very rich, almost soothing one. It did not seem to fit his burly figure.

He finished, at a point that obviously called for more, and indicated for Gazza to continue. The boy looked slightly shocked, then he furrowed his brow, thinking, licking his lips nervously (and no, that did not make me think about doing that, too!) – and then continued in a voice soft as velvet, as the two stared in wonder.

"Mama – life had just begun

But now I've gone and thrown it all away..."

His face was calm as soon as he started singing. Calmer than I had ever seen him. Strangely at peace. I gripped my arms tighter to my chest to keep myself from going over and hugging him. They all seemed to have forgotten about me at that point, anyway.

"He knows the text! But he's never read it! He's The Man!" The black guy clearly was beyond excited now, even though I didn't get why he called Gazza – by all means still very much a boy/puppy in my books – a man. In capital letters, even.

"But what does it mean?" All of a sudden Blondie seemed as excited as her friend, as she bombarded a clearly overwhelmed Gazza with questions about the text the males had just sung. I just stood behind and (now that the danger was no longer imminent) enjoyed the show. I mean, Gazza listening attentively to her every question, only to shoot her down with an exasperated (and expected – by me, at least) "I don't know!" was pretty hilarious.

Blondie almost stuck an accusing finger down his nostril as she complained. "We've been searching for the meaning all our lives!" Gazza sent me a pleading glance and then tried to explain, while I thought 'And that is his problem how?'

Except for the fact that he probably had, too.

And now that he finally found someone to share his confusion, he was getting out of hand. Grabbing the startled blonde by her arms, he stammered worse than before: "No, I-I-I tell you, I-I-I don't know!" She ripped out of his grip and he, unfazed, ranted on. "I-I-I just hear these words in my head, that's all! Mama, OOOH!" He started to sing, reaching heights that made me wonder who kicked him in the balls, only to be shushed by the worried pair. I understood where they were coming from, I didn't want the police after me, and something made me think they didn't, either.

"You have to come with us!" The man ordered, setting me on edge a bit. And then Blondie finally decided to remember my presence.

"Well, not her! She isn't The One; we don't need her!"

Geez.

I thought I had left behind that tone of disdain when I left Pastel Paradise. Well, that's what you get for getting your hopes up... I averted my eyes, because the words still hurt. The angry "Hey, hey look!" from Gazza made me turn in time to see him shake off the black guys grip and storm over to me, declaring he would not go anywhere without me. Which was sweet, but I was hurt and still had nothing to eat. Plus, I was probably way more cautious than him.

"Uh, Gazza? Who says I wanna go anywhere? These people could be killers!"

I mean, hello? He was blabbing on about that special destiny of his, they obviously overheard, and now – o wonder – they had one ready-made for him? Very likely. No, really!

Gazza threw them a wary look then, but the black guy exclaimed proudly: "We are, Baby!" Baby? That was worse than 'chick', and please, who is proud of being - "Killers, Thrillers and Bismillahs!"

Killers, Thrillers and what, please? And obviously, his idea of what being a 'Killer' entitled differed from my own. Drastically. Blondie chimed in now in what was obviously a very well-rehearsed speech.

"We're the resistance! The last hope!"

Well, if 'The Last Hope' depended on Gazza of all people, we were probably pretty much doomed, now, weren't we?

"We are the Bohemians!" The guy announced proudly, and I liked the ring of that name. Blondie continued. "And now you have a choice! Are you ready to break free?" I remembered Gazza's first song, and then the hospital. I grinned a little – the "breaking free" part was covered already. The pair shot off phrases now, getting themselves – and Gazza – more excited by the second.

"Do you want it all?"

"To be a shooting star? A Tiger?"

"Defy the laws of gravity!"

"Are you ready to be"

"CHAMPIONS?" That last word rang out in a triumphant yell, in which Blondie and Gazza quickly chimed in – and then I did, too, feeling slightly wicked – and like there was too much excitement going on here. And as soon as they grew silent, I stated, matter-of-factly: "Sounds a bit boring if you ask me," only to be met by three very, very scandalised stares and a confused "What?" from Gazza. Geez, where they unable to take a joke?

"Yo, I was joking, Gazza!" I thought he knew me by now? "Of course I wanna go!"

"Oh, right!" He smiled an elated smile at me and chuckled. The man cut in – luckily before I went all gooey.

"Then understand this! If you join the Bohemians, there's no way back to Gaga-land!" No shit, huh? What did he think we were doing here? Taking a midnight stroll? Though Gazza looked slightly surprised... "You'll be an outcast, forever!" Like we weren't before? "No longer a member of the consuman race!"

Was that a promise or did he actually think that could serve as a threat for me?

"Sounds perfect, let's go!" This was the most giddy I had felt for a long time, or at least the first time I had actually acted on the feeling.

Then Blondie surprised me again – she started singing. And dancing. I was not too sure how much of that stemmed from Gazza's presence, but seeing how she was not at all confused or overwhelmed I guessed she did this more often.

And so fitting the words were, too.

"And you're rushing headlong, you've got a new goal
And you're rushing headlong out of control"

Well, that was for sure. I suddenly felt kind of lost – Gazza obviously was intrigued, and Blondie's dancing was smooth, confident, bold. I felt very, very plain and stiff right then. Blondie's friend chimed in, trying to string me along.

"And you think you're so strong
But there ain't no stopping

And there's nothin' you can do about it!"

I was still hesitant, but then Gazza laughed and pulled me aside, whispering a "Scaramouche – and you are absolutely sure you want to do this?" with pleading eyes – and this, him being ready to drop all this if I said "no", made me loosen up. I grinned, and as Blondie called "Come on!" it was me that pulled him along to where the black guy stood and singing "No there's nothing you can" while sticking his hand out, followed by Gazza, who laid his hand atop his, singing "Nothing you can" and me right behind him, doing the same, and the woman topping it with "Do about it!" We shook the joined hands a few times, then Gazza laughed – and the music came crashing down on us.

The cluster broke up into the other three dancing and me still feeling a little intimidated by the confident way the blonde danced, therefore being a little stiff. Her friend noticed – again – and while Gazza danced a bit with Blondie, he helped me on top of the blue Van, where Gazza then followed, which made Blondie hurry along to as to not be left out, I assumed. Having Gazza next to me again, singing "Yeah" at the top of his voice drowned out most of my insecurities in seconds, and I joined in with more nonsense, shouting a "hey!" at the end of it, at which Gazza flashed me a grin.

Blondie sang again, and I was a little bit confused by it – I mean, what does "He used to be a man with a stick in his hand" have to do with anything, and what exactly did it tell us about her man? – but I joined everyone in the nonsense that was "Oop diddy diddy, oop diddy doo" afterwards.

Then it was the guy's turn, and he retaliated with "She used to be a woman with a hot dog stand!" which at least was a little more precise, but no less confusing. The chorus of "Oop diddy diddy, oop diddy doo" rang out nonetheless, as the woman bowed down and opened the skylight of the van, gesturing for us to hop down through it, which Gazza did, while she sang some nonsense about 'soup in the laundry bag'. 'Well, I guess the making sense was fun as it lasted, but this was even more of that, even if I don't get it' I thought while I followed Gazza down (he caught me as I stumbled slightly) and didn't hear anything further from the couple above until the guy jumped down, closing the skylight, singing something about a "cheap B-movie", whatever that was.

We were now inside the Van, which, as I only now realized, was connected to the ground and seemed to cover the secret entrance to a closed part of the subway tracks, which we walk-danced through for some time, me loosening up (the music continued all the way, with random bursts of the "Headlong" part when the pressure became too much – it was fun!), although I asked at one point or the other where we were going, to which the blonde only responded "We're going down, hen!" which I let slide, because "Hen" was at the very least, better than "chick", and "Down" was as good an answer as any, considering they still did not trust us fully. Plus, it is kind of hard to get pissed when the music bubbles happily in your chest. The feeling was strange – the longer the music continued, the hazier the reasons for restraint grew, and as Gazza started a verse of his own – "When a red hot man meets a white hot lady", while pointing at me, I simply went along with it, skimming my hands down my sides and answering." Soon the fire starts to burn and gets 'em more than half crazy" (I know – too close for comfort, but at least it made sense!)

Gazza improving his dance-style started to bother me a bit though – the way he wriggled his hips made me a little unfocused for a while – or too focused, one might say – just on the wrong things. (Geez, did that boy haveto be so handsome?) But his verse ended, and it was my turn, and again Music made me just blurt out whatever I was feeling.

"It ain't no time to figure wrong from right
Cause reasons out the window, better hold on tight"

And just like that, without me really knowing how it had happened, I stood behind Gazza, me holding on tightly to his arms, my right leg wound around his hip and him holding on tightly to that, while the black guy gave his girl a piggy-back ride.

The place where Gazza placed his hand on my thigh tingled for a long while after that.

We walked on after that, singing the refrain again, messing around, until Gazza initiated the hand-topping again, us screaming "Headlong!" for the last time, grinning like fools – and as the music subsided, the black guy spread his arms wide, the gesture taking in an abandoned subway station in front of us. Pride rang in his voice as he boomed: "Welcome – to the Heartbreak Hotel!"

Only then did I realize that we were not alone anymore.

Okay, here's the deal: I really have no idea what the poitically correct term for a person with a very high percentage of natural Melanine-pigments is, and Scara would, more likely than not, just call him black anyway, since she wouldn't bother with long terms, and I needed some way for her to talk of him. So, I mean absolutely no offense, okay? I probably would have been able to come up with a better way to speak of Brit without calling him by name had I been a native speaker, but I'm not, and that's that.

Pray tell me if I made horrible mistakes, and what I could still improve, allright?

I will shut up now.