I've lost track of the days. How long I've been down here, I have no idea. Two days? Three? A week? More? After a while, it stops mattering. I've spent the last however many hours drifting between sleep and waking, numbness and pain. The only thing that distracts me from the pointless passing of time are Lindsey's visits. And those aren't exactly... fun
( ... )
I raise an eyebrow as Logan warns me about the Nag's Head. It can't be much worse than the dive I first met him in, back in Laughlin City. And now... I hold up my hand, pale and fragile-looking without the glove to cover it
( ... )
Rogue comes out of the bathroom, a small figure swallowed up by my towel, and my skips a beat. Really. She's more covered up than when she was in the shorts and t-shirt, but this makes my breath catch. S'pose it's knowing how easy it is to unwrap a towel... Which is a bad thought.
"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
"You bet you are," I say, because being all chivalric about it would... send the wrong message. I pass her the bundle. "Probably not too fashionable. Didn't..." I cough. "Didn't get you any personals. Not exactly my forte, buyin' underwear." Not like I'd really had the kind of girlfriend I'd bought panties for. Had the kind you rip them off, but... And that thought could lead to nowhere good
( ... )
I smile as he passes me the clothes and wait for him to turn. I guess I could've gone back to the bathroom. Don't know why I didn't. Well, I do, but it's easier to dance around and avoid than to acknowledge. Haven't I got enough things going all sideways in my life already?
The clothes fit, surprisingly, which means that Logan knows my body better than I thought. That thought makes me blush. The jeans are a little long, and the shirt is plain, dark, long-sleeved, but it fits well, and I appreciate the effort.
"Don't worry about it," I say, turning around and smiling again. "I'll get some myself, later. I know, it's all... weird." Shrugging, I go over to the bed and sit on the edge, cross-legged, and reach for the bucket. The chicken is greasy and not quite as hot anymore and it smells delicious. I bite into it and it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I chew, swallow, bite, chew, repeat.
"It's great," I manage between bites. It's kind of embarassing, but I didn't even realize how hungry I was. "I mean it. Really. Thanks."
I watch Rogue tear into the food with a small degree of amusement.
"I mean it. Really. Thanks.""A $10 bucket of chicken, you're a cheap date," I joke, then wonder if that's inappropriate, then wonder when the hell I got so worried about what I shoot my mouth off about. I eat some fries to cover my confusion. "Just don't make yourself sick. I'm guessing it's been a while since you ate, so you don't want to end up throwing up." Grown up duty now over, I relax and just watch Rogue plough back into the food. Girl certainly has a healthy appetite. One thing I've always noticed in women is the way they approach food. Women who pick like birds at salads aren't the kind of women I pick up. When I fancied a hard, rough lay, I'd look for a woman who'd ordered a double cheeseburger and then had dessert. A woman who eats with relish does other stuff with enthusiasm too, or at least that's what I've found
( ... )
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"Hey. Hand me the clothes? I'm paying you back, I swear."
"You bet you are," I say, because being all chivalric about it would... send the wrong message. I pass her the bundle. "Probably not too fashionable. Didn't..." I cough. "Didn't get you any personals. Not exactly my forte, buyin' underwear." Not like I'd really had the kind of girlfriend I'd bought panties for. Had the kind you rip them off, but... And that thought could lead to nowhere good ( ... )
Reply
The clothes fit, surprisingly, which means that Logan knows my body better than I thought. That thought makes me blush. The jeans are a little long, and the shirt is plain, dark, long-sleeved, but it fits well, and I appreciate the effort.
"Don't worry about it," I say, turning around and smiling again. "I'll get some myself, later. I know, it's all... weird." Shrugging, I go over to the bed and sit on the edge, cross-legged, and reach for the bucket. The chicken is greasy and not quite as hot anymore and it smells delicious. I bite into it and it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I chew, swallow, bite, chew, repeat.
"It's great," I manage between bites. It's kind of embarassing, but I didn't even realize how hungry I was. "I mean it. Really. Thanks."
Reply
"I mean it. Really. Thanks.""A $10 bucket of chicken, you're a cheap date," I joke, then wonder if that's inappropriate, then wonder when the hell I got so worried about what I shoot my mouth off about. I eat some fries to cover my confusion. "Just don't make yourself sick. I'm guessing it's been a while since you ate, so you don't want to end up throwing up." Grown up duty now over, I relax and just watch Rogue plough back into the food. Girl certainly has a healthy appetite. One thing I've always noticed in women is the way they approach food. Women who pick like birds at salads aren't the kind of women I pick up. When I fancied a hard, rough lay, I'd look for a woman who'd ordered a double cheeseburger and then had dessert. A woman who eats with relish does other stuff with enthusiasm too, or at least that's what I've found ( ... )
Reply
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