September 29th, 2013 Rhydin City, Rhydin Green Gables Inn Room 6

Long hair had that annoying habit of getting all over the place during sleep, especially when unbound. It was the first thing Cane noticed upon waking up to stare at the popcorn ceilings overhead, stuck to his bare chest no thanks to the combination of sweltering heat, a lack of air conditioning, and whatever bodily fluids had ended up smeared across his skin before he and his bed partner passed out.

His head was pounding; he'd actually managed to consume enough alcohol to get a hangover. A sandpaper tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth when he tried to swallow.

"Hey," he barked gruffly in an attempt to wake his bed partner. The other man didn't move. Cane rolled his eyes and began pawing at the spray of dark hair that clung to him. "Oy!" Either the alcohol had erased the man's name from his memory or Cane had never gotten it.

The room smelled like stale cigarettes and sex. With a sudden craving for the former, he pushed himself up to rest on an elbow now that he'd disentangled himself from the other man's hair. He collapsed to lie on his back once more after lighting up, exhaling smoke with a heavy sigh. The man beside him had yet to move, so Cane kicked him this time.

"Hey, git up!"

A younger man with pale, soft skin raised his head from the pillow to look blearily around the room. When his eyes landed on Cane's prone form, a cheshire smile curled the corners of his mouth into a smug expression of pure satisfaction.

"Morning," he purred, rolling over to stretch and yawn.

Between the smile, the smooth vibrato of his voice, and the way his narrow body arched and stretched, Cane couldn't help but compare him to a cat. He didn't like cats. He looked away to stare at the ceiling again, puffing on his cigarette. ?"S later"n dat."

"Is it?" He wriggled closer, draping an arm across Cane's waist.

The Cajun frowned around his cigarette and rolled away, forcing himself to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. "Yeah, so why de **** is you still here?" An indignant sound fell out of the other man's mouth, but he wouldn't be deterred so easily. Cane stiffened as a pair of slender, soft fingers stroked the scales along his spine.

"Come on, baby. Don't you want another round or three?" He giggled softly, trying to sound coy.

Cane growled and ripped the sheets from around his hips, standing up from the bed even though the room spun around him. He stumbled into the nearby wall, catching himself with his forearm. "Git out," he muttered darkly.

"Are you serious?"

A man on a mission, Cane shuffled over to the chair in the corner where most of the other man's clothes seemed to be located. Flashes of memory from the night before told him there'd been a strip tease—a damn good one. He grabbed the clothes and threw them at the bed.

"De **** do you t"ink, huh' Git dress" an' git de hell outta "ere." Canaan made his way to the dresser to grab his wallet, fishing some bills out which joined the clothes on the bed.

The man scowled, offended. He tugged his pants on, glaring at the Cajun. "I'm not a hooker, you ass****."

"Jesus ****in" Christ, jes" leave!" It wasn't happening fast enough for his taste, so Cane snatched the man's shirt from the bed and pressed it to his chest. Though unsteady on his feet, he started shoving the man toward the door.

"All right, all right! I'm going!" A hint of fear soured the man's kittenish tone. "Let me get the rest of my stuff!"

The other man slipped out of his grasp to collect his things. Cane fell against the door, cursing loudly as the cigarette fell out of his mouth and onto the carpet. He yanked the door open, then gave the man an extra shove to help him out as he scurried past. He closed the door with a resounding slam that seemed to make the whole room shake.

The Cajun fell against the door again, sliding down to sit on the floor. He found his cigarette, stuck it in his mouth and tipped sideways against the wall to rest his head.

"Stay out," he whispered into the empty room.

July 2013 The RhyDin Imperial Hotel

Her eyes flew open.

Sleeping was only easy for Jewell when she felt safe, and she never felt safe these days. Four months free from Faerie and she still woke up with a start, tearing herself from nightmares that might never go away. The soulless eyes of changelings. Her magic ripped from her chest. Children trapped in paintings. Her body sold to the highest bidder.

And then the next.

And the next.

And the next.

At first she had rebelled. She had dared to say no to her liege lady. Then she had closed her eyes. She pretended it was happening to someone else. That she was someone else. That she was anywhere else.

Then she had learned to enjoy it. She found, in time, that there was a thrill to the art of seduction. There was power in it. There was power in sex. In her body. Faerie took everything from her, but they couldn't take that. That power belonged to her no matter what. And she could use too. She could use it to get what she wanted.

Whatever she wanted.

Shifting onto her side, she looked over at the man lying on his stomach. Long dark hair fell over his face, obscuring his features. If she remembered correctly, they had been nice enough. A finely shaped nose, strong jaw, and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. They were green. Maybe blue. It didn't matter. It wasn't important. What was important was the way he brushed the red hair from her face, the way he kissed her, and the way he said her name as he slid inside her.

She liked when they said her name. It gave meaning to the entire night: the dimly lit bar, the cheap drinks, his hand on her thigh, and the inevitable tumble in the dark.

It made her feel a little less alone.

For a brief moment, it even made her feel loved.

And that's all Jewell wanted.

She tried to cling to that feeling sometimes, but magic always disperses with the dawn. Oh well. She'd find it again. The faerie slipped out of bed, leaving the bedroom for the hotel suite's living area, not even bothering to don a robe. The fae knight sitting at the small breakfast table lowered his newspaper when she emerged. "Mira," he greeted her before lifting the paper up again to continue perusing an article on the latest Hydra fights.

"Merai." She strolled by him on her way to the bathroom, unabashed and unashamed. ?Be a doll and make sure he's gone by the time I'm done with my shower."

19 August 2011 Miami

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Each strike of the bedside clock's second hand was a wardrum in her pounding head. Cracking one eye open, she had to lift her head slightly to peer over the passed out lump beside her to get a view of said evil clock. Ten minutes after one. That meant she was late. Really late.

"Dios?" She groaned, rolling over so she could get out of bed without climbing over her bedmate. Her progress was stopped by another form on her opposite side. What the hell sort of trouble had she got herself into' A wild wealth of fiery red spilled across the pillow beneath the woman to her left. When Nica moved, so too did the woman, rolling over to offer her a sleepy smile.

"Morning, beautiful." The woman said huskily. Redheads weren't her normal type but this one she could make an exception for. Well, she already had, no could about it. Regardless, that had been last night. It was a new day and she was late for training. Nica cringed a little and shimmied down toward the foot of the bed to get off that way instead.

"Yeah, um, it's time to go." Getting to her feet, she cut a look over to the other one in her bed. He was still fast asleep on his stomach, one leg hanging off the side of the bed and one arm stuffed beneath his pillow. Down his back, barely there scratch marks marred his skin from shoulder to hip, hints of dried blood the only evidence that the lines had been worse the night before. Nica rubbed the heel of her hand against her temple and groaned a bit.

"You sure?" The redhead asked. What was her name" It started with an R maybe. No, that wasn't right. His name started with an R and her name was" was" **** it, Nica couldn't recall. Searching for her pants, she tried to find her phone to see just how many calls and messages she had inevitably missed but the room was a disaster. She nearly tripped over a boot while searching but thanks to a quick step (and a few balance runes), she caught herself on the corner of her dresser. Tugging open a drawer, she fished out clean clothes and glanced back to the redhead who still hadn't moved, still propped up on her elbows and giving Nica a come hither smolder, her amber eyes heavy lidded and alluring in all of the worst ways. Werewolf, that was right. The woman was a Downworlder. Why did they have to be so hot' It was tempting, by the Angel was it tempting. But Blackwater was going to have her hide for being late and Christopher would never let her live it down.

"I'm sure. Get your buddy up and get moving. I've got somewhere to be." Nica nodded toward the sleeping man then wriggled into the tight leather gear that would be expected when she showed up more than fashionably late to the Institute.

"My buddy' I thought he was yours?" The still nameless redhead laughed and rolled onto her hip to nudge the man. He growled softly and tugged the pillow over his head.

"Definitely not mine." The Nephilim shook her head and pulled on her jacket. She really could have used a shower but it wouldn't be the first or likely the last time she strolled into training reeking of sex and alcohol. The redhead poked at the man again and still he refused to wake. With a sigh, Nica rounded the bed, stepping over a discarded pair of shoes to get to his side. The leg that was hanging over the side was grabbed and jerked, pulling his head right out from under the pillow. "Hermoso, it's time to go."

"We could just hang out and wait for you to come back." The redhead said sweetly even though she was already rising from the bed to collect her clothes. The curves on the woman were killer. Nica couldn't help but trace them with her eyes as she loomed over the slowly waking man.

"It's a nice thought, isn't it' But really, you've both got to go." She tugged at his leg again and finally he twisted over in her grasp to stare up at her. For a moment, Nicanora had to compliment herself on her taste. He was beautiful even by Downworld standards. That jawline, mmmph. His eyes were a neon violet through the iris, broken only by the white hexagons of his pupils. Even scowling he was pretty.

"Whatimesit?" He slurred, the scent of tequila rolling off of his skin as he sat up.

"Time for you to go." Nica answered, stooping to scoop his pants off the floor. She tossed them to him, thwacking him in the face in the process.

"Oh, those are mine." Giggled the redhead, bending over the bed to yank them out of his lap. Tugging them on one leg at a time, she bounced plenty as she pulled them up over the generous curves of her thighs and backside. Nica tried not to stare. Instead she looked back down at the warlock as he yawned, displaying even, white teeth that seemed to have a smaller second set of dagger tipped teeth immediately behind the first.

"Sorry, what was your name again?" He asked. It made Nica feel a little better that evidently he had no clue either.

"Unimportant. We won't be seeing each other again." She waved a hand and checked her pockets for her phone, her keys, and her stele. The "lock got to his feet, towering over her once he was upright. Exquisite taste, most definitely. The redhead brushed by her in a flurry of liquor and some sort of earthy floral scent, dragging her fingers along Nica's hip in the process.

"You've got my number. Call me." She intoned beside the Shadowhunter's ear before dancing her way to the door. The woman's steps pitter-pattered down the hall and a few moments later, Nica heard the front door open and shut as well, leaving her with the unnamed warlock. R something, right' Right. For a few moments they awkwardly looked at one another before she gave an insistent look to the door.

"Really. You've got to go, like now." Nicanora grabbed for the door handle, pulling it back open to gesture him through. He was still shoeless and tugging his shirt on all askew but he quickly claimed his shoes before ambling through the doorway, ducking his head to keep from knocking it on the frame. She followed after him down the hall and through the condo's living room.

"Not a bad lay for an angel blood." He gave her a literal sharklike grin as he caught the front door and opened it. "You know where to find me if you want a little one on one time."

"Don't count on it, hermoso." Temptation, sweet temptation. She pushed him through the door and shut it behind him. The last thing she needed was to do the walk of shame through her own building lobby. Training could wait a little bit longer.

December into January 2003 Earth Woodstown, NJ/Manhattan, NY

"I met someone."

Ma's breath was full of trepidation. Of course it was. Her son was a fucking addict and every time the phone rang and the number on the caller ID was from a foreign and far away place she had to live in constant terror that it was a doctor, sheriff, or police officer telling her some awful news. Some terrible accident, stupid decision, or overdose. She had picked up and said "Hello?" Just before I dropped that on her door step. Her voice wavering like it did every time I called from a landline in a place she had never heard of.

"Jo?" The fallout when she breathed my name surged. That simple break in the constant timbre of her voice coursing with an overwhelming tempest and tumult. I'd done so well over the years filling all the bits of myself left unrecognizable, shattered, and empty with alcohol and drugs that the emotion, the guilt, no longer even pulled me beneath the surface.

A loner adrift. And the Captain would gladly go down with his ship.

Just my luck. Because that breath and ensuing uneasy silence gave me enough time to ruffle through my effects, pull my lighter out of my pocket, flick it open and light another cigarette. The nicotine deep down in my lungs soothing enough for me to go on.

"I met someone."

She was still too shocked to say anything. So she didn't.

"And I'm doing my best to fuck it up."

That last frame faded into a haze of others. Sorry folks. That's all I remember of that one.

The trees were barren and somehow, the earth was quiet. Gray and cold. If only some frozen rain would fall then I could say it was mourning. I would never get used to it even if I had spent a few winters experiencing it. But the best I could say about the northeast in winter was that the world wasn't mourning, but in grief. Wallowing in it. A moribund pall where Mother Earth was content to wear dull tones that rarely varied.

The sun would come out of course eventually, beaming down bright and sometimes even blinding. Especially to a guy who loved to spend his nights in dark spaces hiding from it. But it was so cold you would never feel it. Then before you even knew it, it was setting again. If you were like me you would fall asleep just before it came out and wake up without having to see it. Without having to rue that warmth you couldn't feel when the world outside was all single digits and people hurrying to get back indoors. To their homes and their loved ones.

Maybe it's why I hovered outside, practicing, and paced back and forth. I pontificated to no one in particular at the end of that cigarette. I rationalized and explained everything away with logic and cold hearted facts. This day was about to fade out of the frame and blur into another. The sun threatening above the horizon. But when the door opened and I heard her voice" I forgot it all in a blink.

Forget this lug. This idiot. This fool. I didn't have a word or the words to tell you about her eyes or fair skin. I couldn't find a turn of phrase to explain that even in that stained white apron, and that horrible uniform the Greek owner of this place made her wear, that doe eyed look, that bright smile, it killed every last thing I was about to tell her. Every last cold hard 100% honest fact about why, 4 months later, this almost official thing was bad for her.

"Hey." Was all I could say, looking down, hoping she wouldn't notice the most recent bruise threatening to blossom just beneath my right eye.

Exhausted, but her smile wasn't in the least. Not even in her eyes. That queasy feeling started in my stomach again. I knew I should have eaten before I stopped to pick her up. No. I didn't see that. I didn't see her shift from exhausted to suddenly excited and energetic. That was me just being overly hopeful.

I might have hesitated each time but she didn't. She stepped, almost hopping to close the distance. There was no need to do anything more than tilt my head forward just that little bit to rest it against the top of hers. She was in against me, securing her arms underneath my shoulders, pressing every last bit she could into my chest. "Hey you." Was her own quiet response.

And she fit right there so well. But this time it was her cheek against my bare chest. I flipped the channels unable to get to sleep even with the sun shining bright and cold behind the blackout curtains of this most recent motor lodge. She had no problem though.

For a moment I admired how I could see the contrast between our skin tone even in the subtle light of another Turner Classics marathon. I moved her hair away from her face and forehead. "Darlin"." I spoke quietly enough that I hoped she heard me in her subconscious. "This is going to be the worst decision of yer life."



She knew. There was no hiding the empty bottles in the trash or the smell of whiskey on my breath every morning so I could hold the shakes at bay. It wasn't an elephant in the room. Or a dirty little secret. Maybe all she needed at that point in her life was for a drunken mess to love her. And I did. God I did. I just denied it with such fervor and routine that it started to replace my bedtime prayers.

The funny thing was as many times as I wanted to. As many times I tried and practiced to my steering wheel I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to ruin it even when I knew I should. The right opportunity hadn't presented itself, I rationalized.

Or maybe...

I wanted to try. Those nights I spent at the bar of her greasy spoon just off the Jersey Turnpike I purposely slowed myself down. When I first started frequenting this place it was to get a bit of breakfast in my stomach on top of all the booze that was frothing away. Now I was pacing myself. A whiskey on the rocks here. A shot there. I'd try to let as much time pass as I could. I'd prove them all wrong. Getting yourself sober wasn't dangerous if you knew how to slowly get what was trying to kill you out of your system.

The trainers at the gym were amazed at my ability to make it every morning at 5 am right on time. Always telling the other guys who were a minute or two late that Jo, the beast, managed to show up on time every day. Sometimes even early. What they didn't know is that I just wasn't sleeping after I dropped her off at home so she could go back to being mom and I could go back to trying to sweat out this endless, uncaring void. Maybe they smelled the booze in every drop of sweat I left on that floor but they never commented.

But then" The opportunity to fuck it all up presented itself.

The great part about being in the middle of nowhere and the only area of this armpit of a state that was cheap was that the hole in the walls" Literally had holes in their walls. I don't think I'd seen a nastier bathroom with more writing all over the walls. That entire thing about weaning. Going slow. Sweating it out. It all went out the window. We were only a few short years away from texting becoming the main method of communication, but not so far away that cell phones weren't small enough to fit in a pocket and be affordable. I flipped mine open and without even looking at the buttons I dialed.

It rang a few times. Deep down I was hoping it wouldn't go to voicemail. But in this fugue state I rationalized that it would, and there was nothing wrong with the number I was dialing, who I was calling, and my intentions.

"Mr. Nagadari." That voice on the other end oozed and simmered every last bit of seduction and poison I had never needed in my life.

I know I slurred something in response. I was borderline blackout. But the rest of it was a mess. A tumble of confessions and emotions I knew didn't belong to her. There was only one reason why she answered. Only one reason why she empathized with me. And when the headache was gone, when I was done hovering over this disgusting toilet and retching out the rest of it, why she agreed to meet tomorrow at a high class hotel in Manhattan.

But you know what they say right' Let the man who's free from sin cast the first stone in and begin the violence.

"Hey." I hoped my voice didn't have that digital quality to it but I wouldn't know. It was still jarring not to hear yourself when you spoke into the receiver like you did on a landline.

"Hey you." It had been a few days. I don't know how many. I hadn't slept since. I don't know how she managed to say it without accusation. Without judgment. Without hating me as much as I hated myself. I hoped that after however many days it had been without me sitting at the bar at her work she might have started to. In fact every time I blew another rail of what Rachelle had called "Molly" I was almost able to hallucinate all the exact things she would say to me. Doe eyed and vulnerable even if she didn't want anyone to see it or know it. I'm so sorry Faye. Maybe that's what I should have said first.

Maybe it had only been one and she wasn't wondering where I was at all, but just thought I didn't want to stop by the restaurant for the night. That would have been out of place for our thing. We hadn't put any titles on it, right'

So why did I feel so revolted with myself when Rachelle raked her nails over my back muscles. Why couldn't I, even in the throes of what these kids were calling the purest ecstasy, get it up so we could have our few days of fun, fucking, and forgetting"

Everything about Rachelle was something any man would have killed to possess. The kind of good looks that spoke of a family with wealth marrying better looking mates over and over again until that evolved into the girl who stood in front of me. Five foot ten, killer stomach muscles, blonde hair that had never seen a cheap shampoo, and that wide but secretive smile. She had learned early on that looks, money, and power could get you anything you wanted. And with Rachelle she could have gotten by on just looks alone. Pinpoint pinpricks portrayed a portrait of exhilarating sensation over my bare skin when she used those soft supple hands that had never seen a day of work to massage my shoulders. God bless her grandfather or great grandfather for finding whoever it was who had that bone structure. If I pointed her out in a crowd and told even my closest friend that we regularly met up, got high, got naked, and lost ourselves in all those hours they would have called me a bold faced liar.

"You were in love with me after that second night, weren't you?"

She spoke it with that smile. Everything in her eyes pleased. Oh she wasn't asking because she didn't know. She wasn't asking because she felt the same or even wanted to feel the same. She was asking because this is what the wrong kind of daddy issues did. The old man was too old to have time for her and never told her she was beautiful, great, or that he loved her. And now Rachelle was going to get every last man to do that in his place. Even the ones who she knew she would never, couldn't ever, feel the same for.

"What was it?" Why did I give her that cigarette to smoke" Her bare breasts swayed as she gestured towards stage right with her fingers secured around the filter. "You were there already drunk. Lonely. Not horny. No. Maybe it was the first time you were in the type of bar where no one your age should be drinking, but then the a young woman walked in and she didn't try to steal glances of your physique and dark good looks. Did that bother you about me until I came up to the bar and you paid for my drink" Or were you just tired of all those dumpster sluts you met in the mid-west?"

"Was it because I saw right through your act' The boots, the trench coat' That accent' Was it because I saw who you were after that first night we spent together" Was it because for the first time in a long time someone saw right through the bullshit to you?"

Huh.

You know what they say, right' Let the man whose words ring true speak on up till his voice breaks through the silence.

I couldn't disagree. Somewhere between trying to impress her father by going to med school, failing out, and her last trip to rehab Rachelle had learned all the same hard lessons I had learned. The only difference was when she hit rock bottom there was plenty of cash to cushion her fall.

I couldn't respond. I didn't want to respond. This was the fucked up part about all these chemicals I got lost in over and over again. Visual creatures we are, only able to think with our hind brains, that dazzlingly sultry fashion the way her lips shaped the words, and the fact that every last drag of these menthols felt amazing, I couldn't break myself from the trance. I traced the curves in her body once, then twice, and she cupped my chin in both hands and kissed me hard.

She guided me back to the sheets with a subtle bump of her hip against my stomach. All the muscles flexed and cringed. I reached out to find a bottle because I didn't want to remember. Maybe the word I should use is I flailed. I flailed out with a desperate arm to find the one thing that always helped me forget. I flailed along the surface while the undertow pulled me beneath and made me gasp desperately between every kiss and the rush of blood that sped up my heartbeat and filled my ear drums. There was nothing graceful or sexy about my sputtering breaths while she repeatedly, and forcefully, pushed me back down beneath the surface until I was completely submerged.

Pray for me. Again. I knew the words, but couldn't say them.

Oh Lord, let the ones who lose their way live to see just one more day in the sunshine.

And let the ones who choose to stray figure out the price they'll pay in their lifetime.

Amen.



The first thing I thought to do the next morning was call.

I didn't bother to hide in the bathroom of the suite Rachelle had graciously secured for the drugs I'd bought. I probably could have with the size of that room and how far away everything was. Instead I had stolen a key card from the nightstand, taken the elevator to the busy mid-town Manhattan street, and paced the sidewalk to the corner and back smoking a cigarette. The great thing about phones at that point in time was since they did nothing but make calls the battery life was amazing.

The first ring went through, and then I heard the tail end of the phone's actual bell before she picked up.

"I left town."

"I know."

"Your kid. I can't ever meet him like this. It's unfair for me to tell you how I really feel and I am so far away from being unfucked up. I can't play the leper and you play the healer. You have to concentrate on that kid too much to have a guy in your life you can never introduce him to that you have to fix."

"I know.."

"I know you do doll. Its why you never said a word about it. It's why you never asked or begged. It's why you never offered to take me to meetings or one of those skid row rehabs. It was always our quiet little understanding, wasn't it?"

She didn't answer. I could only hear her breathing heavy, stunted, on the other end.

"You..you take care of yerself. Okay' Don't let anyone treat you the way I did, okay' Yer always gonna be too good for that."

Hitting the button with the red telephone was a lot less satisfying than hanging up. I hit it a few times in a row but it still wasn't terminal.

I let the doorman, probably just coming on his shift, hold the door open for me to walk into that huge marble laden lobby. The elevators wouldn't let me above the first floor without swiping my key card. When I did the reader beeped at me and blinked red. I tried a few times, then at another elevator before I stepped to the front desk.

"Can I help you, sir?" The desk worker was kind enough but he could tell I was out of place.

"Yeah boss, my card isn't working in the elevator reader. Room 8088."

"I can fix that for you. Let me just swipe your card?"

I handed it over and looked down at my watch. It was 5:30. How did my cigarette and that phone call take half an hour"

"I'm sorry sir, but it says you've already checked out at 5:10. Was that a mistake?" I'm not sure if I looked more confused or he did.

I looked out, to the street, then to him again.

"No, yer right. I did."

Aboard Ceres, some 15 years ago or so..

Duci rolled onto her back with a satisfied sigh, the satin sheets hugging her curves by aid of perspiration. She arched her back briefly, running her hands down her front and ending in a stretch that pulled every muscle taut. Then she twisted around to pull a smoke out of a pack of cigarettes. Pressing it between her lips, she struggled to light it as her companion wrapped an arm around her and began nibbling at her bare shoulder.

She tried to shrug him off, finally puffing on her cigarette and tossing the lighter with a noisy clatter to the side table. Something toppled over with a thud and she was sure it was liquid emptying to the floor that she heard but couldn't care less about.

"C'mon baby girl," he groaned throatily in her ear, nuzzling at the side of her face and letting his hand slide down between the sheets before she stopped it. While last night (and well into the morning) she had enjoyed and been aroused by the coarseness of his five o"clock shadow, it chafed her raw and flushed skin now. Coiling around to look at him, the magic was over. He'd done his part.

Releasing his hand, she forcefully pushed him away by pressing her palm into his face. "Ozskar, if you don't get the fuck out of my room right now, I'm going to force feed you your balls," she growled, and not in a coquettish manner.

"Are you serious?" He clearly wasn't used to not being fawned over, judging by the shocked and dismayed expression he wore. "No need to be such a kurva," he sneered when she didn't say anything else, her expression bordering on bored. He stumbled out of the bed and Duci flopped onto her back, one arm under her head so she could at least admire his washboard abs. He was ripped, it was sexy, but this wasn't personal.

While he fumbled to put his uniform back on, she lazily blew a smoke ring at him. Not bothering with his socks or shoes, he cast a withering look over his shoulder at her. She flashed him a dazzling smile and said, "Thank you. I had fun." A playful bat of her lashes before he snorted derisively, flipped her off, and proceeded to storm out. Her bunk room door slammed shut noisily behind him.

"Well, there goes the element of surprise,? she sighed, rolling over to snub her smoke in the spilled liquid before going back to bed.