Room 422, the Arms Hotel, Sunday evening

[montecito_east]

Something had to be done. There was all this tension in the air every time George Michael was in the room with her. Her failure to say those three words on Friday had haunted her for a second night. After her phone call last night, Mary asked herself what Delinda would do

Comments

[george_m_bluth]

George Michael was there, but he was hiding. A lot. Currently he was in the den, messing with the remote control while Mary was cooking. It smelled good and once he had walked in there to get a drink of water, but he didn't meet her eyes, just mumbled something about being thirsty, and headed back out.

He had to take those words back. They were uncomfortable words.

[montecito_east]

Mary jumped as the oven timer went off. She grabbed a pair of oven mitts and took the chicken out of the oven. After checking to see that it was done, she managed to get it on a platter and brought it out to the table with the rosemary roasted potatoes that she finished while the chicken was cooking.

Taking one more look at her table to make sure everything was there, Mary nervously wiped her hands on her apron. Then she went over to the den. "Anything good on tv?" she asked.

[george_m_bluth]

"Crocodiles," he said without looking at her. "Their mating habits. It's... educational." George Michael flicked the button and turned it off.

"Mary... I... " he began tentatively, his eyes on her breasts. "Is, uh, dinner ready?"

[montecito_east]

"It's on the table. Want to eat before it gets cold?" she asked, taking off the apron. She was wearing one of her signature low-cut dresses underneath.