It's not him

Carson thinks for a moment, then gives a little nod. "I guess I'm feeling a little better..." He sighs. "I know, I know...yesterday didn't help one bit, it was just thinking things through that did I suppose...and I guess I've got you to thank for that."

He pulls himself up into a sitting position as Misty calls Wyatt and waits. As she talks about his shirt, he gives her a sly grin. "Or...you could keep it. You look awfully cute running around in my shirt." His grin widens and he throws her a wink. "Kinda gives the impression you're mine."


Jason listens as Aerith talks, and finishes most of his meal. Frankie Miller...why did that name sound familiar?

Letting the air settle for a moment, he cocks his head. "Sounds like that wasn't too much fun. I hate it when people try to run my life for the wrong reasons. I know it doesn't feel good."

He finishes off his orange juice and studies Aerith's face quietly. "I don't normally do this, but..." He grabs a napkin and fishes a pen out of his pocket. Jotting down his cell phone number, he pushes it towards her. He'd been so miserable lately, that he was surprising himself...but maybe being able to concentrate on somebody else for once was giving him an opportunity to focus on something different. "If he ever bothers you and you can't get away, don't hesitate to call me. Guys like him can mess up lives and you're too nice for me to want to see you messed up."

Standing up, Jason throws payment for the meal down on the table, along with a tip for Aerith. "Thanks." He gives her a little nod. "See you around."

As he turns, he suddenly looks up as a man enters the restaurant. He's middle-aged, not too tall, with dark hair and shifting eyes. Jason stops dead in his tracks, his blood running cold. Get a hold on yourself, Jason...it's not him and you know it. It's not Alex...it's the same man you saw in town once before...it's not him.

Jason's eyes remain locked on the man as he goes and sits in a corner table. The keys in Jason's hand suddenly slip from his fingers and clatter on the floor, breaking him from his stare. Startling himself, he looks down and it takes him just a moment to reach down and pick up the keys. You're fine...just leave, get on your bike and go back to work. He can feel his hands starting to shake, and grits his teeth, loathing the uncontrollable fear that had found its way back into his veins.