A secluded part of the beach, Sunday night

[bad_nose_job]

Penelope stood on top of a rocky cliff, looking down below over the thrashing waves of the ocean. She was barefoot, and her long white thin kind of see-through gown clung to her delicate frame. Or more that the mist plastered it against her curves

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[likes_chicken]

And there, walking towards her, was Hurley. He had a guitar and a rose in his teeth.

He took the rose and tossed it at her.

"Do not jump, my love. For you deserve better. You deserve the best. You deserve... Hugo Reyes."

He played his own riff, that time.

[bad_nose_job]

The rose hit her in the back. Thank goodness it did little to aid her in her plunge to uncertain death.

She looked over her shoulder at him. At his guitar. At the rose now cast aside on the cold hard rock.

"Why shouldn't I jump? Let my death walk upon your conscience for the rest of your life!"

[likes_chicken]

"Why would you want to rest upon my conscience?" Hurley said, plucking a little tune. "When your beauty can rest against my magnificent body for the rest of your life?"

[bad_nose_job]

She gasped. "I know you did not just say that!"

Whirling around, she stomped over to him and poked her finger into his chest. And yes, she totally just did that because she had off-camera encouragement.

"You gave yourself to another woman!" Poke. "You gave that woman another part of yourself!" Poke. "You are going to be a father! With another woman! I mean little to you! I am nothing. Nothing!"

...

"But tell me this, do you still love me?"