Sometimes he wished he didn't work as a professional liar, today, well today he wished it more than ever, even a damn accountant was looking like an ideal job for him. But he wasn't, so here he was pathetically pacing back and forth in front of Andy's door fuming, trying to cool down a bit before heading back into her apartment. He did owe her an explanation right? At least some type of explanation (a truthful sounding lie) for why he had accused her of being a drug dealer, pointed a gun at her, and now trying to beg his way back into her life. She would probably kick him back out anyways he thought warily as he stalked back to her door.
Inside Andy felt like, hell she didn't even know what she was feeling but what she did need was a nice sweaty run to clear her confusion fogged mind.
It was all his fault right? she muttered to herself, working her self into a fit. Silently agreeing to herself as she walked to her door. Then in a flash of fury she shoved the door open, hard, very hard. She stood there waiting for the satisfying thud of the door hitting the wall but it didn't come. All she heard was a thud of her door hitting something a little softer than a wall followed by a pained omph and some delightful stream of curses. She just knew it, her door had just slammed into Tyson The Drug Dealer's face. The day just gone from bad to-lets just say her life was getting a little too interesting for her taste.
Hey Andy? Tyson said, wincing at the sound of his nasal voice; he freakin sounded like a girl. Andy?- Look, I know you dont want to see me but i really need to use your bathroom right now-
Fine just come in
-Please Andy? Um Andy, come out and help me I'm feeling a little dizzy he admitted
Despite everything Andy had to smirk at that, the way Tyson had admitted that he needed help was so like a typical guy, he had sounded like he was admitting to a crime he hadn't committed. So here she was peaking out her door to see if he really was down and wounded. Oh-he was down and while she had been smirking at him, he had taken of his t-shirt and was holding it to his bloody nose, every now and then he would reach up and touch the growing purplish bruise on his forehead and then wince. Climbing down the fire escape seemed like an excellent idea now, she certainly didn't want an enraged drug lord in her home again especially after he had waved that huge gun around in her face. Buy lord did that guy have nice muscles...eww what was she thinking the guy was dangerous and that was reason enough but he was bleeding so maybe he would just use her restroom and leave. Right?
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