Fine

As the times before, Axel allows Jess to work on his hand, though he's still just a little surprised at her initiative.

Listening to her talk, he nods. "Yeah, it was a bit chilly last night to have a window open."

The pause in conversation is welcomed, and his eyes simply drift to her hands as they gently rubbed his own. Her touch was soft and warm, soothing away the pain like nothing else had ever done.

Snapping back to attention, he glances up as Jess speaks again. "I'd like to work at night," he muses. "Empty shop, leaving me to the peace and quiet and my own little world. I know dealing with people is as must, but sometimes I'd just as soon go out back and work alone there."

Another silence takes over the table, and his gaze moves downward again. The ache in his hand had stopped for the time being. Taking his other hand, he stops Jess' movements, but takes her own two hands in his. For a moment, he just holds them until he finally looks up to stare into her eyes. The eyes that held so many stories. The eyes that held a fire beyond the walls, just waiting to burn again.

"I generally don't make a habit out of letting anyone close enough to help me like this," he mentions quietly. What he really meant was that he never allowed another woman to be close at all, let alone ever touch his hands. "But you're different, Jess... I haven't figured out yet what it is... but you're different."


Scott receives Dalton's words a little awkwardly at first. It still didn't really feel like his office too yet. Maybe if he was told enough times, he would get used to it.

Not sure what to do, he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, enjoying the classical music, not objecting to it. "All my music is gone," he responds. "I miss it. No one else ever shared my tastes."

Standing nearby for several moments, he brings himself back to attention when Dalton asks for his assistance. He hesitates. Looking at the larger man, he weighs his options. He didn't really feel like he was very much capable of helping. His mind was still foggy and he still couldn't concentrate very well. But his only other option was to go back to the infirmary.

Pursing his lips, he wanders a little closer, his hands still in his pockets. Almost timidly, he comes around and looks over Dalton's shoulder. "A database, huh?" His eyes roam the computer screen, not being able to help the ideas and formulas that pop into his mind.

Without even thinking, he reaches back and pulls an extra chair closer to sit down. "Which part are you having trouble with?"


Kyle's alarm goes off for the third time, and he groans, rolling over to slap it off. But it doesn't go off. What?

Sleepily, he pulls his head out from under his pillow to look at his alarm clock. Oh. It wasn't his alarm. It was his phone.

Reaching down to the floor, he gropes under his pile of dirty clothes, grumbling to himself. Feeling too far, he loses his balances and falls out of bed with a thud. More grumbles come as he continues to look for his phone. "I gotta turn that dang thing off," he mutters.

Just when his fingers find the phone, it stops ringing. "Aw, nice." He sighs and flips it open to look at it. Not only had he just missed this call, but several others as well. He'd been ignoring them. He didn't recognize the number and hadn't wanted to take the time to listen. But who cared now?

Leaning back against the bed, he stays on the floor and listens to the first message.
My name is Alice and you dont know me but I know you... well kind of. Anyways I heard you sing at the concert recently, and I saw you play the keybored for Jetstream. The way you slipped into two different rolls was great. I am just getting into journalism and started working for the local magazine for Nevada and my first assignment was to do a report of you. So if you can give me call back sometime that would be great. Thanks, Kyle.

Kyle lifts his eyebrows. Alice, huh? That was interesting. The second message plays.
Hi Kyle, it's Alice again. Sorry to keep bothering you. I hope this is the right number after all. Just calling again to see if we could set up a time to talk. My boss still wants me to do that report on you and says I cant move on till I get it. So I am hoping you give me a call back and we can set something up. Thanks.

Now Kyle's eyes roll. Reporters. Great. That's all he needed. Did he dare listen to the third message?
Kyle, it's Alice again. I feel like I am being a nuisance and I am sure you think so too. But my boss told me it comes with the job. Anyways I was hoping to get to talk to you but once again it's a no go. Just give me a call when you can.

Kyle slaps his phone shut. Good grief. He thinks about just ignoring the whole thing. But this Alice seemed pretty doggone determined. If he didn't give her something, she'd just keep calling. He sighs. "Alright, fine," he relents aloud. Dialing, he waits until he hears the same female voice.

"Kyle Mitts," he identifies himself. He stifles a yawn as he runs a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't care if you want to do a story. I don't think there's much of anything interesting enough for anybody to care about, but do what you want... with one rule - if I say it doesn't go public, it doesn't go public." He didn't want any of the band's arguments or his rift with JetStream to get out.


Surprisingly, it's Jeff that answers the phone. "Well hi, Angel!" His greeting is warm and cheery. "We're missing you something awful around here, you know that? Keeping all these guys in line is just too much work for the ladies that are left." His laugh signals his teasing. "But I doubt you really wanted to talk to me, did you? Hang on, I'll get your hubby."

There's as bunch of shuffling noises, some muffled voices and odd background noises, but finally Luke's voice comes over the line. "Hey, you," he greets. "Been wondering when you were gonna call again. How are things in Nevada?"