we're gonna make you lose your mind (rion!)

[MICKEY WHITE]

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[atrb=background, i12.photobucket.com/albums/a217/vicouslove/tableb.png] im gonna make you lose control Her heart pounded in her chest. Pressed up against a stone wall of one of the many dark alleyways that made up a back road maze in the Romador parish, wide blue eyes looked around, keeping a watch out for the authorities. They’d been hot on her trail since the market tents of the Romador Mall. It’d been a fairly entertaining site for the shoppers, to see the Kingdom’s own Robin Hood as she raced through the narrow streets and passed in between tents, her side bag bulging with wool and other items that she’d been assigned to retrieve. Unluckily for the police, their blond haired bandit knew Romador like the back of her hand and every little passage way was privy to her. She’d finally shaken them off of her, and now the quiet allowed her to take a short rest. Probably a good three miles away, she could feel Traide’s concern pressing against her mind, begging for access into her innermost thoughts, but she hardly wanted to worry the raven-hued dragon and simply shut him out (she knew he’d scold her like a hatchling for that later). Just when her heart stopped its frantic pounding, angry shouts echoed through the alleyway, and she knew they were directed at her. Letting out a loud laugh that could have been taken as pure insanity or genuine mirth, Mickey White took off again at a dead run. Shin-high leather boots splashed through mud puddles, dirt splattering up on her shirt and face. Daring to take a look behind her, she noticed that two of the men who’d originally been on foot had now become the cavalry. Cursing she shouted back at them, “Jesus Christ, you act like I killed someone!” Knowing that an upcoming alley was going to be too narrow for the men to follow, she darted down it. However, instead of stopping she kept running. Her mind was on escape mode and at this point she was going to do whatever she could. Unfortunately, she didn’t count on the guards to be carrying firearms (which, it turns out they were). The sound of rapid gunfire behind her made her look back once more, and for the first time in a very long time, she was afraid. The shock and fear caused her mental guard to breakdown and she felt Traide force his way into her thoughts, his booming roar deafened her and caused her to stop running and take refuge behind a stack of barrels, “I’m coming to get you!” The last thing she wanted was to be picked up and saved like a helpless damsel, “No! I can do this. I’m alright, just…stay there. Please?” His hesitation, she figured, was an open door to act before he decided to come rain all sorts of hell down on the inner walls of the Romador Kingdom to rescue his rider. Taking his silence, she burst out from behind the barrels and into the rain of bullets. She felt one or two graze past her, but hardly recognized the fact that one had actually hit her. Adrenaline pumped lighting through her veins as she shot off in a completely unexpected direction. As she ran, she looked around for what looked like abandoned homes for her to hide in until the cover of nightfall, then she’d be able to sneak out of the city undetected. Her eyes set on a pair of half-open wrought iron gates, a dragon emblem welded to the front. For the most part, it looked deserted. Darting into the courtyard, she looked around for an open window and found one. Practically launching herself into it, she rolled into the room and simply laid there on the floor as exhaustion and finally pain caught up with her. Groaning loudly she pressed her hand to her side and felt a warm liquid patch on the side of her shirt. Lifting her hand up to her face she squinted her eyes at the red that stained her fingers and simply said, “Fuck.” ____________________________________________________ MICKEY WHITE . o671 . /that awkward moment where you’re bleeding on a stranger’s floor . RION AND NETH

[ORION DRAKE]

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[atrb=background,http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y26/chimcham/Picture5-13.png] I know exactly what I want and who I want to be The guards banging down his door at this time in the morning was not something new. In fact he was good friends with Head Guard Tibirias. They even had a ritual whenever Tibirias had to come investigate the manor; Orion would politely allow the official into his front pallor, receive a few warnings and insults when the Head Guard couldn't find any evidence for prosecution. Then he'd lean back on the doorframe, smirk and watch ol' Tibs leave cursing him that 'one day I'll catch you!' with cool indifference and every expectation he'd see him again the following week. What was unexpected was that Tibirias had seemed to have lost his sense of direction as he and his men were running past Drake Manor. Rion tapped his palm against the window frame thinking for a moment before thrusting his head out the window. "Get her! She went this way, down the alley!" The shouted words bounced off the stone cobbled streets. The echoing cries of "Get herrrrr!" were punctuated with much manly sword and gun air thrusts. "She..." He mused in a deep voice, rocking back on his heels and shoving the window closed. He walked with light quick strides from the musty upstairs bedroom. Not his, just one of the many rooms in this place. Apparently before Drake Manor was owned by the Drake's it was something of a hotel. He never stopped to wonder at his parents purchases and at this point in his life the extra space was exactly what he needed. Orion paused on the stairway landing, listening like a hunting dog and fiddling with the weapons concealed beneath his clothes. It was a pity the higher social class didn't wear more leather but apparently hodgy podgy rich people didn't approve of fighting. Upon (reluctantly) moving back into Drake Manor, Rion had to at least have the semblance of a normal life and trade in his leathers for cloth. The only thing he refused to replace were the heavy black boots laced around his calves which surprisingly made little noise as he flew down the stairs to the first floor. The dark tan slacks, white dress shirt and black vest did little for movement or protection. But they were excellent at hiding the leather arm sheaths and approximately ten knifes and daggers shoved into any place he could arm on his body. The clattering of horse hooves and cries of men faded into the distance, still intent on running down their invisible game and leaving the house in deafening quiet. Fortunately this made his hunt easier by tenfold. A muffled "Fuck." floated out from the second pallor, the one with windows opening onto the courtyard. Orion rolled his eyes and mouthed a silent 'give me strength' as he approached the open doorway. Sprawled on the floor was a dirty blonde escapee bleeding on his carpet. For the record he'd done much more damage to the flooring of this house so a small puddle of red was hardly anything to sneeze at. He settled back against the doorframe with limbs crossed and eyebrows raised, looking cooly unimpressed, "That looks like it hurts." ♠ I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy Ooc Hurhurhur. 496 533 words I think. We're gonna need some fabreeze for those carpet stains.

[MICKEY WHITE]

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[atrb=background, i12.photobucket.com/albums/a217/vicouslove/tableb.png] im gonna make you lose control Outside the seemingly deserted manor, she could hear the clamor of armor, clatter of horse shoes against the cobblestone road, and frantic shouts as the disorganized men scattered about the rows of homes and grand estates looking for their lost bandit. To them, it’d seem like she’d disappeared into thin air –gone without a trace. But Mickey knew full well that she was hiding in plain sight, and hardly considered the not so far-fetched idea of them actually going around to search the houses. Behind the stone walls and in the wood-floored room, she felt strangely safe. Mickey hardly knew what a home felt like, and most structures to her were simply shelter, but she knew that they were supposed to make their occupants feel a sense of belonging. Twisting her head around to look at the place, she admired how nice it looked and began to wonder if someone actually did live here. Sitting up, she winced at the pain and pressed a hand to her side to slow the bleeding (though most of the blood still seeped through her fingers). She figured that the wound was merely a cosmetic one, praying that the bullet had simply grazed her skin and broken several blood vessels and that was the cause of bleeding. It was far too close to the crook of her abdomen for her to actually worry whether or not the shrapnel had been lodged into her intestines, or for there to be any internal bleeding. “Just a minor scrape…” She reassured herself, and Traide (who was now angrier than ever that his rider had been injured and was threatening to tear apart the house she was in and drag her back to the Actetova forest with her probably kicking and screaming the entire way like a child…which was something she did not want to happen). After a silent mental battle, she managed to stave off the raven beast and his haphazard rescue plan. She told him that she’d just wait until nightfall and they’d meet at the outer walls where the streets were wide enough for him to land, and with his speed, they’d be out of the castle archer’s range before they even knew that he was there. Mickey was extremely confident that she’d make it out of the Romador Kingdom without any hiccups. Unfortunately, engrossed in her conversation, she’d hardly heard a man come to stop at the doorway of the room she was in, and didn’t even notice his presence until he said something. Alarm kick-started her survival instincts like a jolt of electricity. Her heart started to pump quickly and once again adrenaline took over. Flight or fight ruled what she did next as she launched herself to a standing position and reached for one of the many knives on her belt, ready to cut his eyes out if she needed. In a quick moment, she summed him up; tall and bulky she’d have to rely on her speed to defeat him. Standing in a defensive position with her feet shoulder-width apart, Mickey raised her chin and squared her shoulders (almost looking like the half-royal she was) and warily replied to him with a sharp tone of distrust to her voice, “I’ve had worse.” Clenching her teeth, a muscle in her jaw jumped as she tensed and relaxed her jawbone. As always, her curiosity got the better of her and she queried the man, “Who are you?” ____________________________________________________ MICKEY WHITE . o574 . U R ROOD, MICKEY. FIRST U BLEED ON HIS FLOOR THEN YOU DEMAND TO KNOW WHO HE IS, I THOUGHT UR MOM RAISED YOU BETT- owait. no she didn’t… . RION && NETH~

[ORION DRAKE]

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[atrb=background,http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y26/chimcham/Picture5-13.png] I know exactly what I want and who I want to be The stowaway leaped to her feet with surprisingly agility and cat-like grace despite being wounded. Orion had to reassess his original impression of amateur to novice. He gave her a slow appraisal from head to toe, boot to bag of questionable goods. Thin, on the dainty side, fast and well balanced. She had quick fingers pulling out that knife. And a strong constitution from ignoring the blood that plastered her shirt to her side. Rion held up a hand in a gesture that meant no harm. Easy thur crazy lady with the knife. He wasn't really fussed if she bolted the way she came. Less trouble for him if the guards did do a house search. But unbeknownst to him they both share that funny little trait called curiosity. Her demand for his identity made him chuckle. "And this is the part where I tell you you're in my home and I ask the questions." His stormy gray eyes sparkled with a steel glint. Amused but dead serious. But he threw her a tidbit anyway. "Drake," He said simply, "And this is Drake Manor." He used a shoulder to bump himself off the doorframe standing, feet planted wide and arms crossed, biceps tensed in an impressive show of intimidation. His eyes grazed her tightly clenched jaw. She was all balled up like a furious terrier. The corner of his mouth hitched in a reluctant smile like he couldn't help it. "Go on, tell me who you are stranger. If you don't bite maybe I'll be nice and patch you up before kicking you back out onto the streets. You've lead Tibirias on a merry chase which deserves some reward." He rubbed a hand over closely cropped hair, vaguely remembering that she was interrupting breakfast and a hot pot of coffee on the table. ♠ I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy Ooc Prolly not many words I'd prefer to keep this rolling. BTW MAKE UP YOUR MIND WOMAN, DO WE HAVE CARPETS OR WOODEN FLOORS? I just made myself hungry for coffee >.>

[MICKEY WHITE]

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[atrb=background, i12.photobucket.com/albums/a217/vicouslove/tableb.png] im gonna make you lose control Years of living on her own with only a dragon as her companion has led her to a more ‘feral’ way of being. Like any wild animal, she reacted one of two ways to any situation (generally in a predictably aggressive manner), and hardly trusted strangers at all. Yet, she was curious as any sentient being. Just because she didn’t trust someone didn’t mean she couldn’t be interested in who or what they were. For example; the man whose home she’d invaded Mickey wondered what his role was in the Kingdom, whether he was a close confidant of the King, if he’d rat her out the authorities and was simply wasting time to keep her there, and how well he knew how to fight. By the looks of the way he flexed his muscles slightly, she read that he was no inexperienced schoolboy. However, a hand gesture of peace was put up and she felt herself relax slightly. Unwillingly, she put her knife back in its place, but kept her hand cocked should she need to grab for it in an instant, constantly reminding herself that if he decided to launch himself at her, she’d have to be quick to avoid being crushed. His chuckles made her relax even more, putting a false sense of security into the situation. As her instinctual survival mode began to wear off, she could feel the throbbing in her side start back up worse than before. While she wanted to sit down and hold her side, she simply stood there, hardly wanting to look like a wounded animal trapped in a small space with a predator. His simple answer made her think for a moment. Drake. How odd to have such a dragonesque word as a first name. Then, she began to wonder whether that was his first name at all, since the estate was called ‘Drake Manor’. For all she knew, he could be living in an heirloom house that’d been named after the family, which would thus make his name something other than ‘Drake’. Quickly deciding that they were simply sharing last names (since being on a first name basis with someone that could quickly slit your throat without blinking and hardly have any guilt about it was a bad idea), she gave him a semi-respectful nod in acknowledgement that this house was his and that yes, she knew she was trespassing and simply offered him with a, “Nice…house.” Finally, it was his turn to ask questions. He cracked a smile, and she offered him a tense pull of her own lips in an upward motion, mirroring something that was hardly a smile –more of a grimace, but could be easily mistaken as a happy expression. Tilting her head to the side she simply offered him a quick, “White,” as an explanation to who she was and in response to the rest of his statement she boldly declared: “I don’t need help.” Again with the ‘I can do this on my own’ attitude. In all honesty, it’d probably get her killed one day. ____________________________________________________ MICKEY WHITE . o511 . I NEVER ACTUALLY SAID IF IT WAS CARPET OR WOOD FLOOR . RION && NETH~

[ORION DRAKE]

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[atrb=background,http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y26/chimcham/Picture5-13.png] I know exactly what I want and who I want to be He waited for her to make her mind up. Took a bit of effort too before her shoulders relax and she threw him a painful grimace. It might have been an attempt at smiling. Orion just pinned her with a sharp look before she tilted her head and offered up a name. His face went carefully blank. Now, that name was very interesting. She probably didn't even suspect he'd gain anything from it. This wasn't a friendly meet n greet, who could suppose this man would get anything from a name? He did consider it could just be a nickname or an outright lie but the way she said it like she was used to repeating it over and over... He smoothed out the morning stubble across his cheeks with one calloused hand while absently eyeing her clothes for more concealed weapons. "White huh? Not unlike Miles White hey, Miss Stowaway?" Rion murmured lifting a shoulder as if 'oh what a strange coincidence'. Secretly though he was watching her like a hawk for any betrayal of familiarity at all. He was going to have to make sure she stuck around now. However she set her chin at an angle no one could call anything but stubborn... And he had a sinking feeling that this was going to take longer then his rapidly cooling coffee could wait. Rion scrubbed his face with the same hand in impatience. Women. "Well, White, I know you're a big tough girl running from authorities, getting shot and bleeding on my rug but that Head Guard after you will be on alert until five past midday for lunch." Everyday for the past eight years in fact. Tibs was a creature of habit, bless him. "You, can either dive back through that window," He punctuated that option by looking pointedly at her wound, "Or be tactful enough to accept breakfast." Orion made a quick decision and didn't even wait for her to open her mouth, he just strode back out into the hall. From many years of being experience he learnt that thieves were a lot like cats. You could only coax them so much before they either scratched your eyes out or bailed out the window. The trick was to leave a bowl of milk out for them or, in this case, breakfast. His heavy boots thunked down the hall complimented by the sound of drawers being rummaged through. The old wooden side tables held a plethora of items these days. Knives, string, coins, matches, a man's severed finger. Rion scooped up a bundle of bandages that had been shoved in one and made his way to the dining room. "Bathroom, third left in the hall, Breakfast just continue down the end." He yelled through the house. Here kitty kitty. The dining room was an old commons room. The floor was dark sandy tile and complimented the dark wooden beams which held up a high ceiling. The centerpiece of the room was a bigass old table of scrubbed oak that held an unseemly amount of gouges and scars. The room could have held fifteen people comfortably but the entire house was sorely empty. Save for two. Tossing the bandages onto the table, he poured two mugs of coffee and took a seat opposite the door. Never leave an enemy at your back of course. The coffee was good and rich, if maybe a little less hot then he would have liked and he drank in silence while waiting for his quarry to be flushed out. Aside from his dragon (Arcadia), caffeine was probably the second love of his life. Speaking of which, he had forgotten entirely that Arcadia was due to arrive sometime this morning. She hadn't given him any specifics but the table was set to feed a dragon. She probably wouldn't begrudge some of the bacon to a skinny blonde. ♠ I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy Ooc LALALALA nothing going on here. 654.

[MICKEY WHITE]

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[atrb=background, i12.photobucket.com/albums/a217/vicouslove/tableb.png] im gonna make you lose control Mickey was a hidden family jewel, someone Queen Elissa had done a very, very good job of covering up. Someone that only a few people (the King included) knew about, her existence in most of the Romador Kingdom had not been because she was the Queen’s illegitimate daughter, rather she was the bastard child of the man whose name she carried (with little satisfaction, mind you). To say that Queen Elissa had been pissed off when she found out that her loyal husband had gone and knocked up a lowly chamber maid in a time when their marriage needed some good TLC would be a bit of an understatement. From what she’d heard of the stories her mother had told the man that ran the Bell Tavern (and raised her) and thus told her, Queen Elissa had been exceedingly furious. Obviously mad enough to banish a mother and her unborn child to the outskirts of society without much thought on her decision. It’d been as easy as killing a fly. In any case, the ‘White’ name was hardly a name Mickey was proud of carrying, but generally used it to her advantage. For the most part though, she kept it under wraps really and only mentioned her bloodlines when she felt like they needed to be mentioned. She took note of ‘Drake’s face as his expression went blank at her name. She wondered whether he was connecting her name to his King or not, and she speculated over how he would react if she opened up and told him who her half-brother was. For the most part, she assumed he’d react like everyone else: peg her as a liar. Nobody actually believed that she and Miles White were half-siblings through the late king Sebastian White. In fact, they hardly looked alike (she took after her mother, really) as she was tall and lanky with hardly any bulk to her, with not an angle on her face in sight, it was long and ‘elegant’ (as her foster father would say). And then there was Miles. She’d seen him several times in the distance on raids, and she assumed the only thing they shared was their blue eyes and blond hair, beyond that –they looked nothing alike. Mickey narrowed her eyes when he questioned whether or not her named shared any ties to the King. Shrugging her shoulders she then spoke in a manner that suggested she had no idea where she’d gotten her namesake from at all, “Maybe.” Of course, she knew exactly who and what she was –but it wouldn’t hurt to keep this man guessing. When he extended an offer for her to stay for breakfast, she balked. Was he simply stalling her to keep her there until the authorities arrived? At least, that was her first worry, but the way he spoke she could hardly hear any deception in his voice and at the mention of food, her stomach betrayed her and rumbled quite loudly –though she was grateful that at that moment he was leaving the room and shouting directions at her. Mickey stood there for a moment rooted in her spot, weighing the pros and cons of everything that could go wrong or occur in her benefit. After a final rumble of her hungry stomach, she made up her mind. Mechanically, she put a hand to her side as the trickle of blood slowed as the wound started to scab. Remembering where he’d said the bathroom was, she slipped into it. Closing and locking the door behind her, she lifted up her shirt and studied the grizzly wound in the mirror. Well, actually it wasn’t all that bad; it was simply covered in blood and hard to see what it really was. Turning the sink on she cupped some water in her hand and began to scrub at the tender wound, gritting her teeth as the frazzled nerves in that area protested at her cleansing. Finally, she got most of the dried and crusted blood washed away and deduced that it wouldn’t need stitches, simply a few bandages to keep her from losing too much more blood. Stalking quietly out of the bathroom and down to the dining room, she found Mr. Drake sitting at a strangely scarred up table with a cup of coffee and some bandages beside him. Not exactly wanting to sit down without being told to, she stood there and said, “My…wound, um. It’s not that bad.” She simply said it out of lack of anything else to say. Though, she could always thank him for his hospitality; maybe she’ll do that later. ____________________________________________________ MICKEY WHITE . o771 . sooo, this didn’t get written yesterday because I had a bitching head ache ALL DAY D8< . NETH && RION

[ORION DRAKE]

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[atrb=background,http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y26/chimcham/Picture5-13.png] I know exactly what I want and who I want to be So Orion might not have guessed her connections perfectly. But he was still a suspicious bastard and analyzed information down to the most minute detail. However unlikely they may be. White wasn't as common as most last names went otherwise any old person would be bouncing up the castle steps to proclaim themselves a long lost relative of the King. Though it wasn't unheard of to have the surname, as was certainly the case with 'White'. Rion pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Family lines weren't his strong point. He came from the Drake family and even he couldn't tell which grandparent was his mother's or father's. A couple a generations though they were once gentry who occupied a place in the royal court but Orion neither had the time or inclination to foster a reputation enough for the White King to re-recognize. By the time White joined him in the dining room he'd already devoured a piece of toast and was busy finishing off his coffee. The feisty woman stood there, awkward and still stubbornly suspicious over why he was helping her. He supposed that wasn't a bad thing; taking candy from strangers was the first rule of nono that mother's taught their children. She almost reminded him of himself in that respect. Rion threw her a gracious, though tight-lipped, smile. "Patch it up," He instructed, sliding the second mug of coffee and the bandages across the table. Orion may be a cutthroat bastard in some circles but a bad host he was not. Being on the streets for a time had given him an idea of the coldness of humanity. They lie, cheat and steal, often without cause. Rion sometimes thought that without Arcadia in those dark times he would have joined the trash on the street long ago. Instead he had mercy in him. It was a kindness that was very useful when one was in the business of secrets. Now pulling the secrets out of White, with her rigid jawline and cunning eyes, was probably only going to prove she was the tough nut of the century. But if he extended an offer of aid she might just return another day for him to decode her secrets. Rion leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out under the table. There was a change in the air or at least in him that was... Relaxing. ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Like the sound of a heart beat but inside his head. His own heart steadied to match the slow powerful rhythm. Wing beats. Arcadia lowered herself gracefully onto the sprawling lawn of Drake Manor. From the sky the gardens and fields of Romador was like a quilt of soft green patches. The Manor boasted a large amount of land compared to the other houses around it and in this busier part of the city, so close to the castle it was quite an asset. As soon as she touched ground Arcadia immediately widened her mental presence in search of Orion. Inside Orion felt her conscious purr against his mind like a cat rubbing at your ankles. His once stormy eyes, although focused on White, had turned a bright crystalline blue. Draconic influence was an odd thing. If bonds were measurable (even if they were already segregated into false and true) then what Orion and Arcadia had was as close to a true bond as false bonds could ever get. They couldn't feel or contact each other over distance nor did their mind's merge, but Arcadia's conscious was wrapped so tightly around his mind that it was almost a second skin. It was a warm and welcome thing. Reunion was always a sweet and sour occasion. They could not stand more than a couple of days apart but together they fought like cats and dogs. Orion was completely independent; Arcadia was independent but fiercely possessive. Since the manor wasn't equipped to house a dragon she spent the night's at the Dragon Keep but this latest fight had Arcadia absent from the house for three days. They were both edgy. "You have company," She murmured. Unspoken was the rest of the actual question; who? Outside the dragoness was lounging in the morning sun. Casually digging her claws into the soft earth and arching against the grassy lawn until she was belly up. Her wings spread out to absorb more warmth. The sunlight lit up her dusky indigo scales so that the fine edges of silver glittered along her entire frame. Obsidian eyes closed lazily in pleasure. "Just some stowaway taking cover from the guards. Her name is White." "I don't suppose you are going to answer even if I ask you why Tibirias caught you stealing?" Orion asked to cover up the odd silence that preoccupied him while greeting Arcadia. "Her," Cadia mused only betraying a hint of jealousy that his visitor was female. "I suppose that was the cause of commotion in the markets earlier. The guards are still on alert, is that why you are feeding her my breakfast? Or have you finally found a human mate to replace me with?" The poison in her mental voice was sweet enough to kill a diabetic. Rion almost choked on his toast. He very casually set it aside with a wince. "Bear..." He used his nickname for her in an attempt to sound sincere but he may have sounded defeated. "She is a thief who jumped through my window to escape the Head Guard. She is wounded and I suggested she wait here until the guards have settled." Arcadia's presence pressed heavily on his trying to steal his thoughts though it was impossible. They had tried (or she had) but it just gave them a migraine. Orion pushed her back and in doing so gave her a tiny piece of information, an image. "She's blonde," Bear sniffed, "You like blondes." "Her name is White. I'm thinking as in 'Miles White'." Her mind receded from his just enough that they weren't squeezed together. "I've heard nothing from the dragon's at the Keep. Even those who talk to Solara say she does not openly discuss Miles. It is pointless to suppose. There aren't any rumors of a lost relative to the King." Rion dug a thumbnail into the old oak table, adding to it's scars. His eyes were still tracking White and her quick, precise movements. "The Dragon Keep doesn't always have the information to everything. You're becoming too reliant on them as a source. Besides there arn't always rumors, Bear. But there are always secrets." His response from her was the equivalent to a mental eyeroll. She wasn't convinced. ♠ I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy Ooc lololol. 1141 words. BEAR YOU BIG SQUISHY BALL OF LUFF. Mickey should probably be like "Wtf stop staring at me you silent freako."