oh and i know saturdays, they are busted

[stuntguy]

[ even out here, a little closer to the coast, it gets hot when the sun is out. but as dusk settles into night, the air cools and whips through the open windows of the car.

driver makes a smooth turn and pulls into the parking garage of the apartment. this is the car he keeps for them—him, irene, benicio—one that isn't of the many that have been linked to robberies around this city. he kills the engine but sits there for a while, starting out at the concrete wall.

he unlocks the apartment door and leans in through the doorway, looking around. it's a nice night out. ]

Comments

[stuntguy]

[ driver has long since shed his satin scorpion jacket. it was too dirty, too old to wear around anymore. now the closest he has is something else quilted and embroidered, not quite identical, but a shell all the same.

but irene is there, and he smiles back at her, starting to shrug his jacket off of one shoulder. he doesn't say a word, doesn't ask questions, but he leans a little closer to her as he steps through the doorway. ]

What's for dinner?

[ even though he can see it laid out on the table. ]

[ex_laundering808]

Chinese.

[She doesn't love it: in fact, neither of them are overly fond of it, but her son likes the fortune cookies and it's cheap, easy enough to slide onto a plate after a long day. A sit-down restaurant has never been their style, nor can she imagine fitting in amongst the cocktail dresses and tuxedos, him with his leather gloves and her with the same rotation of dresses, wrinkled and sun-bleached from last summer.

To hear him ask is comforting, familiar, normal, the way a husband would ask his wife after hard hours of work. Even though they weren't spouses, probably never could be, even the barest imitation of domestic bliss is something she cherishes.

She closes the door behind him, taking his discarded jacket in one hand to drape it across a chair, not taking her gaze away from him, as if searching for bruises or bloodstains. She has learned not to ask where he's been, but her concern weighs heavily all the same.

She wants him to wrap her up in his arms, to kiss her, but as with everything between them, the most meaningful moments go unsaid.]

You want anything?

[stuntguy]

[ it smells good, as much as any chinese takeout smells good. he could eat. he lets his hand trail over the side of irene's wrist gently. ]

Whatever's good.

[ a dinner with just the two of them is rare, and he'll take advantage of it for what it is. ]

[ex_laundering808]

[She pulls away from him with a lingering glance, taking a plate and serving him a little of everything: noodles, rice, thin slices of meat, sliding it in front of his place at the table. She takes a seat opposite of him, although she claims nothing to eat for herself.

She has more to think about than her appetite. No matter how short their time is together, the uncharacteristic quiet moments, are the ones she loves the most.]

Did you go driving?

[From the slight strain in her tone, she means more than just circles in the parking lot. The time for carefree joyrides and night-time trips has long gone,]

[stuntguy]

Just around the block.

[ he doesn't eat yet, watching her with a half-smile. after a moment he pushes a carton towards her across the table. ]