Keeping The Distance


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Scene Title Keeping The Distance
Synopsis The 'afterwards' isn't near as good as the 'during'.
Date November 10, 2009

It's several hours after they originally met. They introduced themselves simply as Mary-Lou and Chris. No last names. No complications. There were drinks. Plenty of them, followed by check in to the nearest motel. Christopher Nash is sitting in a nearby chair and pulling on his patent leather shoes, one after the next and tying them up as he reaches for his tie and tucks it into his slacks pocket. He's trying not to wake her, and the light from the street shines in through the window. It's his MO. Get in. Get out. No complications. He's had one of those in his life, and he doesn't plan on having another. He noticed what he assumes are battle wounds. Scars from bullets in the line of duty. He has a couple of his own, though they were never all that serious in his case. He walks over and picks up one of the coffee cups and fills it with water and takes a drink as he looks at himself in the mirror over the sink.

"Ya make a damn shit ton a noise skulkin' around there sugar. Almost make a girl think this is yer first time," Lola, it seems, has been awake for awhile. She's wearing, at least visably, many many blankets. Her hair is all loose and everywhere. Which sucks, the lock-pins she kept in the clasp of the clip are now probably god-knows where. Ah well. "If ya were a gentleman ya'd at least offer ta get me a glass a that." She's got a sloppy smile on her face. Life is certainly better once you've been healed.

"I'm a gentleman because I don't offer you a glass of his horrid tap water, rather than if I did. It's fairly nasty." Nash does pour the water for her and walks it over and sets it next to her on the night stand. He nods towards her scars. "Looks like you've been in a fight or two." He doesn't ask how she got them, as that might imply he cares. He's only met her. He doesn't..

Lola sits up, taking back a shot of the water and falling back on the bed, curling her fingers through her hair as she streaches and lolls her tongue out of her mouth, like a kitten might. "Saw ya had a few a yer own." She comments easily, rolling onto her side. Yeah, he paid for the room. She's in no rush. She's comfy! "Mine're better. Just sayin', ya know, in case ya didn' notice that." Yes, now that they're all healed up, she's proud of her bullet-wounds! But that doesn't mean she wants any more.

"If I'd known this was a contest, I'd gotten some more before I met you." No. He wouldn't. But, whatever. "Anyway, had a good time. And by the sounds of it, so did you. If you're around the precinct alot, I'm sure I'll see you around again." Of course, that's not necessarily a promise for a second 'date' or whatever it was this was. Nash moves towards the door. "Need anything before I head out? I gotta get up early in the morning." Or something.

"Nope. Close the door on yer way out, sugar." It seems Lola isn't the lovey-dovey type either, at elast not where Nash is concerned. But somehow, their paths may well cross again. For now? Lola rolls onto her side and throws her arm over a pillow, snuggling the blankets up around her neck and closing her eyes to go back to sleep.

Oh, he plans on it. Just like every night he spends with someone he's just met. Close the door and never look back. He doesn't say another word as he cracks the door open and pulls it shut behind him as he slips into his car, starting it up and driving towards his apartment. Another night of being Christopher Nash. Perhaps not as perfect as he'd like everyone to think.

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