It was official. Rizzo was tired of the rain. It'd been alright at first, enough of a change from the monotony of constant sunshine for her to want to raid the clothing box for the mackintosh and rain hat it had never made sense to own in Venice, California. Then she'd ended up looking more like Elizabeth Taylor in Cat on a Hot TIn Roof, but not
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"Hey, Rizzo. You don't have a spare towel, do you?"
As he ducked inside and began shaking the water off, he was definitely in drowned rat territory.
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"No kiddin'," She said, and her mind flashed over his name, Kent. "You sure your name ain't Clark then, Mr. Superhero?"
She tilted her head, looking at him with her eyebrows raised, not sure what to say to that kinda concern and benefaction. "Awfully respectable of ya. What's in it for you?"
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That was... kind of him. Generous. And she hadn't ever met anyone truly generous, who wasn't in it for some personal benefit or ulterior motive, or who wasn't just naive, like Sandy. "It ain't for free. I spent a whole damn weekend as a p.g. cheerleader - the island doesn't forget to collect, Kent. Tit for tat and all that."
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Not to say she wasn't more inclined to go search out the Kent family tree in the bookshelf now, what with the dripping hunk she was following. "So then what are you tryin' to prove with the do-gooder act?"
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