Hollywood! The glitz, glamour and excitement of Southern California buzzes with energy and a low comfortable heat. Tucked away in a room on the fifth floor of a Holiday Inn is Andrea, who just performed for the judges for the final time last night. It was her first time in front of a large audience and she took a leap of faith in her song choice which brought Jennifer Lopez to tears and Harry Connick Jr to his feet. The week before she sang a Rascal Flatts song, an emotional rendition of What Hurts the Most, and last night she bravely chose a Lindsay Lohan song. Confessions of a Broken Heart (Daughter to Father). An anthem to the father that was not there for her, despite the fact he was standing off to the side, watching her in the crowd. The camera panned to him several times, then back to the girl in the long flowery skirt and the sleeveless blouse, strumming her guitar and throwing her voice into the air with a hint of rage and frustration behind it. Tomorrow, she will take the long walk down the aisle to hear her fate. For now though, she is settled on the edge of the bed with a pair of headphones on, rocking back and forth as she listens to the song in her ears. After her room mate finally leaves, she leans forward and slips her hand under the mattress and sneaks out a burn phone, then taps a text message to Felix: Hey. How are things?

Wednesday evening, and Felix for some reason's decided this is the time to hang out in the room and play the acoustic a little instead of breaking every rule of library silence with the electric downstairs, as more usual. This is handy, since it means the sound of a text message arriving isn't drowned out! He brow furrows a bit at the unknown number, and he scans the message. It's probably a good thirty or so seconds before a reply arrives: hey! all gud. u? wos tis?

Glancing down at the message, Andrea wrinkles her nose at the grammar. Boys! Ick. She taps away a few more keys: This is Drea. Just in my room. Bored. After she sends it, she turns the volume down on her phone, then heads to the window to stare out it to the packed streets below and heavy traffic.

She may or may not have noticed Felix doesn't text a whole lot. And when he does, it tends to include a lot of emoji. The reply's a good example: a big grin, followed by an exclamation point. Thought bubble, U, no-mobile-phones sign, question mark. Up arrow, question mark. At least the last pair she's probably gotten enough texts from him to recognize as "what's up?"

"I would make a terrible survivor if I couldn't sneak a phone into a hotel room." Andrea texts back to him with a small smile on her face. "Not much. Did you watch the show last night? We are not allowed to have Internet so I don't know what people are saying."

Felix takes a little longer to parse this one, although anyone close enough to watch would work out when he got at least the first sentence by the sudden grin that reply gets. He texts a laughing face, and on the next line, a TV, musical notes, and a thumbs up. After that, a phone and a speech bubble, followed by a question mark. U, restroom, speaker, down arrow?

Andrea_J squints her eyes at the phone, then lets out a dramatic sigh. She hits the call button on the phone.

The phone's picked up with barely a chance to ring, and a cheerful, "Hey! Yeah, we saw you last night. You kicked ass, but I reckon you prolly know that. Ain't that hard to feel when it's goin' right an' when it ain't. I ain't been lookin' around the 'net, but if folks got any sense, they're agreein'." Felix flops back onto the mattress, setting the guitar aside and getting comfortable.

"I'm still nervous, scared to death. That was a huge chance I took with song choice last night. They wanted me to sing some upbeat pop song and not something depressing. I'd rather go out being true to myself than making it through and feeling like a sell out." Andrea says as she presses her cheek against the window to feel the warm air pulsing behind it. "If I make it through, it means I'm going to live rounds. Top twelve girls. Top twenty-four over all."

Felix smiles at the true-to-herself bit; a small smile, but there. "You did good, Dre. An' it made you stand out more, you ask me. Plus, there's a shitloada people can sell a dance song -- hit any karaoke night, right? -- but ain't as many can really get feelin' across. You know it was a good choice." There's a pause. "Anyway, I don't think you gotta worry 'bout whether you're movin' on. Not this week, anyhow. So the real question is, whatcha gonna do =next= week?"

"No clue. They tend to do theme weeks, like the 50's and 60's. I know we are going to have a celebrity vocal coach but they have not told us who yet. Rumor is they are going to use past Idol winners since this is the final season, give them as much exposure as they can." Andrea taps her head a few times against the glass. "I don't know how much longer I can go though. There are some people here that are freaking amazing. Like, when I hear them sing, I get super low esteem. This one boy here. Really cute, plays the guitar. He sang an original song last night. So gutsy. He was beautiful. Crowd went bananas."

There's a very small sigh at the 'final season' part; nothing else until she finishes. "I know the guy you mean," Felix says, stretching out. "An' yeah, he ain't bad. Been consistent, too. Don't let no one give you a complex though. You're good, that's why you got this far. Ain't no one in the group blowin' everyone away... some folks ain't so good as the rest, but I reckon they'll be gone tomorrow. After that..." He shrugs. "You're good. How far you get from here ain't gonna change that." Another little pause, and there's a bit of a grin in his voice as he asks, "How awesome was gettin' the whole real audience, though?"

"I don't know, I think this guy can win. You should hear the girls in real life freaking out when he was on stage. You know how they are with the votes. Cute boys with a guitar will always beat the girls." Andrea chuckles. "And .. a real audience.. it was really scary. I tried to focus on one or two people the entire time as I sang and hoped to not get caught up in the emotions of it all. I just wanted them to hear my song. It was just so quiet .. you know? Some sings just got people freaking out and screaming, and I got this hushed silence when I started. I get it .. it was emotional, I was singing a song to make you think. But when you are up there and all you can hear is the tracking in your ear and the guitar and your own voice and thousands staring at you, sometimes you just hope for a bit of a reaction to gauge if you should take the energy up or down or what. So, I just sang it like I did in the bathroom mirror that morning."

"See, I told you I could win," Felix teases re: cute boys with guitars. "Quiet's good for somethin' like you were singin', though. Means they're listenin'. It IS a reaction, y'know? Just ain't such an obvious one as some shit'd get." There's another moment of silence, and then he admits, "This's the bit I really wish I coulda done. Anyways, doin' it how you do for yourself worked real nice. An' next week prolly you'll go with somethin' more upbeat. Showin' range, an' all."

"Yeah. Depends though. They give you lists of songs you have to sing sometimes, unless you ask to get out of it, but it's a risk you take. Coming up in the live rounds I think I have to pick songs from their categories, then make it my own to the best of my ability. Either way, if I have to sing a Bieber song, I'll just let myself go and hop back on a plane." Andrea laughs softly. "I wish you were here. I miss you."

Felix laughs. "Nah, they try to make you sing one, you take it an' make it your own. Ain't like you wouldn't do it better'n him, right?" He smiles at little at the last bit. "Yeah," he says, "...me too. 'course, if you win, you'll be off tourin' all the time, so you'd just hafta get used to it. On the other hand: groupies." The grin with that bit of teasing is pretty much audible.