(Untitled)

[extra_psychic]

She knows she should be dead. By all rights, she should be dead. It wouldn't have hurt, it wouldn't have been scary. If the booze hadn't gotten her, the cold would have. It was just chance, dumb luck, and an Angel of the Lord. That's all that kept her from being a New Year's corpse

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[thirdboxcar]

Having finally spotted Pam - Walt needs to talk to her, after all - Walt calls her name, waving his arm, before he realizes she can't possibly see him. "Pam, wait up!" He calls, breaking into a jog to catch up with her.

[extra_psychic]

Walt sounds too happy to be bringing shit down on her. She stops and waits as his footfalls come closer and closer and she even manages to smile a little.

"Heya, soldier," she says. "Put some hustle in it. I'm in a hurry." And isn't that a lie? She hasn't been hurrying over anything in days.

[thirdboxcar]

"I wanted to ask you," Walt starts, and pauses. How the fuck is he supposed to ask if she wants to come to Nate's wedding without making it sound like a fucking date too much, he wonders.

"Look, my LT is getting married, and I'm invited- plus one," he starts to explain, feeling more and more like an idiot. "And since we get along so well, I thought I'd ask..."

He pauses again, before shrugging. Hell, now that he's started it, he better just finish it. "I thought I'd ask you. You know. If you wanna go with me."

[extra_psychic]

She's pretty sure that if he knew how fucking fragile she was, he'd have slowed that down a little. It takes her a minute to parse it, then she tilts her head and scrunches her nose a little.

"You want me to be your date to a wedding?" she asks, making sure she's got it right. "Are you sure? I mean, are you sure you want to take me?"

[thirdboxcar]

Walt blinks at her, because really, does she think he'd be asking if he wasn't serious? He's already feeling embarrassed enough, not to mention like a complete idiot, knowing she's probably gonna say no, so he shrugs.

"Yeah, I was sure, because I thought we get along great, but if you don't wanna go..." Dropping his shoulders, Walt turns around to leave.

[extra_psychic]

"Baby, I'd love to go," she says and the warmth of her smile spreads through her. It's been a few very long, very shitty days and she fully expected to come out of her seclusion to accusations and recriminations. Getting asked to be a plus one is better than she dreamed of.

"One condition...you're gonna have to come up with something for me to wear. I doubt jeans and a wifebeater is proper wedding gear for your friends. Now, if it were my friends, it'd be required..."

God, it feels good to crack a joke. She was starting to think she'd never feel this good again.

[thirdboxcar]

Walt turns back around, a huge grin on his face now, and he barely resists the urge to pick her up and spin her around like she agreed to marry him. Instead he lightly touches her arm, not sure if she'd allow him more.

"Sure, I can do that, I won't mind!" He says enthusiastically, offering, "We could go up to the clothes box, see what it gives us?" Looking at what Pam usually wears, he doubts the clothes box is just gonna spit out a dress for her like that, but hell, if he has to, Walt is gonna stick his hand in there and pull out a dress himself.

[extra_psychic]

It's not like she's got dick else to do today. The clothes box is always iffy and she's never sure just what she's getting, but so far she's been lucky. The only questionable thing she's gotten was a tank top that said 'Fucking Classy" in loopy scrolling letters. Ellen had thought it was a riot.

"Let's go. Just promise you're not gonna stick me in some June Cleaver bullshit. I'll be happy if it just coughs up a decent LBD, you know?"

She would definitely hand on to a little black dress...even if it's not cool to wear black to a wedding. Bad juju, there.

[thirdboxcar]

"What, you wouldn't like that?" Walt says, grinning. He definitely had something more... revealing in mind, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna tease the hell out of her.

Pam seems to enjoy it, and if it means he's making her smile, Walt's not gonna stop anytime soon.

[extra_psychic]

"I've never been a heels and pearls girl," she tells him, reaching for his arm and settling her hand comfortably in the crook of his elbow.

"Actually, I'm not even sure I remember the last time I wore a dress. Maybe to my mom's funeral. I can rock a leather skirt, but...yeah. Dresses have been few and far between, my friend."

[thirdboxcar]

Turning his arm lightly so Pam can have a better hold on it, he tells her, "We'll find you a nice dress, even if we have to ask around for somebody to make you one."

With a grin, he adds, "Shit, I'd sew you one myself if it came down to it."

[extra_psychic]

"You can sew?" she asks, more than a little surprised. If she's picked up anything about Walt it's that he's not an outright liar. He might tease, but when it comes down to it...

Okay, she thinks, so maybe he can sew on a button and he's just jerking her chain. But somehow- somehow she doesn't think so.

"Maybe we'll find something good and you can alter it for me," she continues, dragging her hand along the wall until she feels the elevator doors and then hits the button. She's perfectly capable of taking the stairs, she's just lazy.

[thirdboxcar]

"A little," Walt admits with a shrug, adding as an explanation, "My mama taught me; she figured it wouldn't do me any bad to know how to sew."

Following her into the elevator, he presses the button to them to their destination, waiting for the familiar ping-ing noise.

[extra_psychic]

"Where'd you come from that your mama taught you to sew, Walt?" she asks. Bits and pieces come together, but half the shit he told her was when she was self medicating, so it's like it's there but it's not. She knows he was a marine and she knows he killed someone. A civilian. But she can't for the life of her remember if he told her where he's from and suddenly it seems like a damned important fact.

[thirdboxcar]

"From Virginia," he tells her, adding, "It was always just me and my mama, so she figured it would be best if I knew how to do stuff like that."

Walt really doesn't mind to know how to sew, at least this way, he won't have to be dependent on somebody.

"I know how to cook as well," he adds.

[extra_psychic]

"I can bedazzle and peg jeans, so you've got one on me there," she replies, laughing just a little more. The more she does it, the better it feels. She's had damn little to laugh about since she got out of the clinic.

"I used to be able to cook. I used to do a lot of things that I don't anymore. What I need, I've decided, is one of those helper monkeys. You ever see those? They wear little diapers and they hop around your house and do shit for you. I want one of those."