I need the darkness, someone please cut the lights

[selfmadman]

From a distance it looks like the husk of a theater, hollowed out and abandoned long ago. There’s no name over the marquee, just an expanse of tile the color of chicken broth. The posters that flank the entrance are faded almost to the point of abstraction; Don studies one long enough to discern that the words-whatever they are-are not in English

Comments

[hercandleguides]

Not far away, there's a very well-kept young lady with coal-black hair, dark eyes, and extremely pale skin, dressed in red, a cell phone to her ear. She says something in it that's probably a bit cutting, and in Turkish, before hanging up with a snap and sliding it into her bag.

She regards Don for a second. And his cigarette.

Leila retrieves her own (they're actually Solomon's, she's picked up the habit for the duration of her presently hectic schedule, ostensibly for stress relief) from her ridiculous little purse, smiling just a little. "Hi. Do you mind giving me a light?"

[selfmadman]

There's a feeling that takes hold of him at the movies sometimes--like the feeling you get on a plane as it clears the ground, a sensation of lift, an awareness of everything falling away behind you.

It's slackening, but Don's still at a remove from his surroundings, wearing down his cigarette and staring intently at nothing in particular. He doesn't take notice of the woman until she addresses him.

"Of course," he says, offering a makeshift smile in return. He moves closer to her and flips open his Zippo.

[autumnrusset]

"Hey." Laura is smoking one of the Luckies he gave her; she looks mildly surprised to see him, but not a great deal.

[selfmadman]

At the sound of her voice Don glances up. He delays any reaction to her presence in favor of dragging long and slow on his cigarette; that done, he raises his eyebrows as if to say 'what have we here?'

"Afternoon."

[autumnrusset]

She raises her eyebrows back.

"How you been?" Given that she hasn't seen him since the sex at Morgana's party.

[selfmadman]

"Are you making polite conversation?" The eyebrows stay where they are and what could be genuine amusement threatens to warp his mouth into a smile.

"Fine," he adds a moment later, because it's more succinct than 'my secretary burst into tears and quit after hurling my cigarette dispenser at me.' "How've you been?"

[opensadress]

Today seemed like a great day to go to the movies. Then Roger saw Don exiting the theater. Somehow all the fun seemed taken out of it now, like a child who wanted to be the only one on the playground with a toy.

He wasn't angry, just needed a change of plans. Roger is looking at the marquee when Don steps out. "Rumor has it the place is a dump."

[selfmadman]

Don steps outside anticipating an unrecognizable street and an influx of sunlight; Roger's presence is, by virtue of its very familiarity, incongruous enough to stop him in his tracks.

"It's not the Capitol, but your shoes won't stick to the floor." He lights up. "Do you ever leave here?"

[opensadress]

"Not if I can help it," Roger replies with a shrug as he withdraws a cigarette from it's pack. He's mostly joking, but the response is an easy one.

As long as Don is lighting up Roger holds out his own cigarette expectantly. "Jane's serving up her famous pot roast tonight. I'm trying to buy some time to figure out how to tell her no thank you short of admitting that it tastes like cardboard."

[selfmadman]

Automatically he thumbs a spark from his lighter and touches the flame to Roger's cigarette.

"Tell her you're stuck at the office," he says with a shrug, pocketing the lighter. "How're two people supposed to eat a pot roast anyway?"