Inevitable

Carson grits his teeth and looks straight ahead. He didn’t like lying to Misty…her of all people. It had been stupid to think he could get away with it in the first place, but even if he had, he’d still feel just as guilty as he did now.

He could feel her disappointment in him, and it stung more than he’d like to admit. He takes a deep breath, wanting to take his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, but opting not to light up again in front of Misty.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly. “I just….” He takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face. “I got a bloke after me…Terry… for a job he wants me to do…he’s an old acquaintance…not with the Agency, but scum just as bad.”

Carson pauses again, picking at a worn spot in the knee of his jeans that’s almost a hole. “At any rate…he’s been calling me…bugging me…I finally gave in and went to meet him last night. It…didn’t go well. He wants me to take a guy out who owes him money.” He gestures to the side of his face. “I pushed, he pushed harder.”

Sighing, Carson lifts his hand, letting them flop back down on his lap. “I told him to get lost and leave me alone. He hasn’t called me today, so I’m hoping it’s over. I guess….having a taste of the old life was more tempting than I thought it would be, and…I didn’t want anybody to think I was actually going to go kill somebody, so I figured silence was the best route.”

He shrugs, bouncing his foot a little nervously. Finally he turns his head to look at Misty, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And no…wearing makeup is not a new habit of mine.”


Reese’s eyes widen a little as Lockheart stumbles over her words, and he can’t really decide what to say, but even if he could, she was gone to fast to say it. “Uh…six-thirty!” he calls after her.

Looking back to Katie, he gives her a confused look at her comment, then realizes that she’s caught on to the very thing he was denying. “Well I…um..” Watching her walk away too, he stares after her. “Thanks…Katie…” His voice quiets. “I think…”

Shaking his head he remembers he was going to Nate, and continues his route. At this rate, six-thirty was going to come way too quickly and he had a lot to get done first.


Bret chuckles a little at Charlotte’s comment. Unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves, he watches her start the game, leaning on his cue stick. When his turn rolls around, he chalks the tip and walks around the table, studying the position of the balls.

Glancing up briefly he grins at Charlotte’s question, but opts to shoot first, signaling where he’s aiming. Nailing his target, he straightens again. “Mm, what if wallowing is a daily ritual for me?” Chalking his stick again he squints and calls the shot before leaning over again, and again sending the ball rolling into the desired pocket. “Alone is inevitable. Where I land depends on the weather.”

Pausing, he squints an eye at her. “Now, I could ask you the same questions…to find me here wallowing in the middle of the day requires you being here too.”

Taking another turn and sending the cue ball sailing in the wrong direction to ricochet and hit a solid ball, Bret retreats, letting Charlotte take her turn.