*Andrew’s POV*

As I walked next to Eliza in the Commons Courtyard, the people around us parted like oil from water. It would have been nice, if not for the whispering. Little snippets… about my baring of Eliza’s breasts, Eliza being a hybrid (some phrased without malice, others phrased worse than I would have anticipated), how confrontationally protective Eliza had been of me after the concussion she’d given me (I was both glad and surprised to hear a few supporters, seems I was not the only one who was fed up by my gaggle of would-be brides), comments about the speech I’d given the curly-haired girl, speculation that Eliza and I were lovers (I wished so!), thoughts on whether or not Eliza was a lesbian (I hoped not?), and the usual speculation on whether I had been ‘turned gay’ by my sorrow over Juliet’s death. I had never heard of anyone’s sexual orientation doing a 180 on account of misery, where did they get that garbage?

After hearing a comment about Eliza I particularly didn’t like, I found myself instinctively heading in the direction of the speaker, to correct him. I made it about a foot, only to feel a rough, small hand on my wrist. “Andrew, you’ve had a concussion. You can receive no more blows today, Second Officer. If there is a legitimate problem, I will resolve it.”

I frowned and tugged at my hair. Eliza raised an eyebrow. “If you insist on defending my honor, in person, right this moment, I suppose Melora would be happy to make you more shit-water. They can put you in restraints again, prevent you from sleeping for hours and hours. You know. Again. That sound good, hmm?”

I grimaced. “Salad, soup, or sandwich?” Eliza smiled approvingly, which both irritated me and made me happy to get her approval. Women! I briefly wondered if it was, in fact, easier being gay? Probably not…

---

I looked at my salad, feeling dejected. I hated salad. I had gotten one anyway, because that’s what Eliza had wanted. Was this what love meant now? I hated it, if it meant salad all the time and unrequited feelings. Hopefully, when I hadn’t recently had a concussion, I’d be able to eat what I fucking well wanted, without a bloody escort for fuck’s sake, because this blew my-

“Cheer the fuck up, grumpskin!” I glowered at Eliza. “Salad is good for you, don’t be a douchebag. You’ll shit better and everything.” I made a face. I didn’t want Eliza to even acknowledge that I defecated, much less know the nature of it when it occurred! “I fucking bet you get stoppered up on a regular-“

“Gods! I’m eating this filth, woman! Is that not enough?” I huffed, refusing to acknowledge that, perhaps, she was right, and we would never, ever discuss it, ever. Ever. “We should pick up some food for later, I have some food at the shelter, but I’m not used to eating-“

Eliza laughed. “No shit you aren’t, you’re thin as a rail!” Oh gods, she thought I was a skinny, pathetic, effeminate wretch! Gahh! I tugged at my hair and ate more heinous salad, not that it was going to help me ‘beef up’ any, curse it…

“As I was saying, you whelp, I sometimes forget to eat, and I don’t really have enough for two. You were a, eh, surprise.” I winked at her, but she missed it. Dammit. “So we should grab a few things for later, so we don’t have to come back up here and can just relax a bit.” Some horrible part of my mind chimed in, 'hopefully we will be having a lot of sex and that way we need not come up for air.' I smirked, keeping that addendum silent. There was still hope, I guess.

Eliza grinned. “Ah, yes, put them in our convenient travel bag, courtesy of the smithy, because you couldn’t keep your balls under control and had to get both knives, you nutcase!”

I pointed my fork at her. “I saw you liked them both, it was a simple decision. I like making you happy, Eliza.” I smiled my best smile at her, it used to melt the damned clothes off any girl nearby when I was a teenager. Eliza just raised an eyebrow, cocked her head, and looked confused. Rather than impale myself with my fork at my incompetent failure, I took another bite of loathsome salad. Apparently I had to 'beef up' significantly before we returned to the shelter from our shopping trip.

---

On our way to see John about some boots for Eliza, she spotted Will’s shop sign, pausing briefly. “The artist, would they work on a hybrid?”

I chuckled. “I imagine so. If he won't, I'll knock his teeth out. But I know William pretty well, he’s done a lot of my work. Did you want to go in?”

Eliza looked at me, shaking her head. She had that pained look, like someone that really wants to do something, but is terrified. I wouldn’t push her before she was ready. Will was kind of a strange guy, though a good man. Maybe in the next few days. “Maybe another day, then?” Eliza nodded, looking calmer.

Our visit to see John put me in a profoundly foul mood. I could have sworn Eliza took a liking to him. She fought me at every turn for every purchase, but once John learned she had two daggers, he was easily able to talk her into a fancier pair of boots, where each boot had a sheath big enough to store one of her enormous knives. It drove me nuts when he complemented how well the tall boots showed off her calves! Of course they did, but why did that make her smile? She didn't smile like that, all sexy like she was interested, when I said nice things! Am I really so foul and below notice?

I sat in a corner, tugging at my hair, trying not to stare at Eliza’s soft-skinned, supple calves. I tried to concentrate on how John was actually a great guy, he and Ginger were good pals, watching them jam in the old days had been great fun. But I fucking hated him right now, I wanted to cut his motherfucking balls off! Ginger could find a new buddy, I didn’t care if he had to walk through all nine hells, gods fucking damn-

“Andrew?” I resurfaced. Eliza was wearing her sexy, new tall boots that looked great on her and hopefully wouldn't give me wood- gods damn it to the deepest hell! I could just see the hilt of one of her knives peeping out. Ugh, you are my kind of woman! I needed to not think about that!

“Hmm? Ahh, all ready? Great! Let’s go see Sandra.” I practically ran out the door, not wanting John to see me as I headed towards half-mast. I just needed a little fresh air.

Notes

John: Cobbler/Shoemaker of the Wild Ones, and long-time buddy of Ginger. Also a great guitar player. (duh)




**edit- I just discovered that Motorhead legend and Rock God, Lemmy Kilmister, has passed away after an extremely short battle with very aggressive cancer. Rest in Peace, Lemmy, you are a legend! 1945-2015**