The day after, early afternoon

[nomorekaraoke]

It isn't every day Lorne has to crawl out from under his thick, cozierthanthou duvet to answer an unlisted caller sending his cell phone into a vibratin', party hoppin' frenzy.

...the saxophone's blowin' on a rock n' roll show - we climbed in the back seat, really had a good ti-i-ime--

"Hot patootie, my tush." Begrudgingly flipping the phone open and letting his arm go limp. It's an approximative thing, really, where the actual receiver thingamabob ends up.

...right. His ear's over here.

"What's yer pleasure, stranger?"

Comments

[sunnydalealum]

"Thanks." And she hears herself smiling when she says it.

The compliments, the little endearments -- they don't make her nervous, even though she vaguely thinks they should. The offer of a job does, but she realizes (to some surprise) that what she's nervous about is screwing it up. Not ... him wanting something from her, something beyond what he's saying.

"So, um. Talk to you soon, I guess?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Sooner rather than later, I hope." He smiles, heartened and all brightened up by the sunshine on the other end.

"Anytime, sweetie. You take care, okay?"

[sunnydalealum]

"You too." Meaning it.

She thumbs the OFF button and sits down on the edge of her futon for a while, phone still held loosely in one hand. Thinking.

Looking at the notepad with its few words scrawled on the top page. Marta. Sundries. Bleecker Street.