Wesley Wyndam-Pryce (prodigalwatcher) wrote in prodigals,
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

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Channel Surfing

"See, it doesn't work that way. You and me? We're not built for this shit. We were never meant to go out on dates or shit, you said so yourself. Hurting, fucking, hey... seems like it's all we're both good at. At least for each other."

Faith's words echoed in the back of my head the entire silent way back to the hotel, all the way up to the room. I poured drinks, because... well, because that seemed to be what we did. Faith took hers over to an open, screened window to smoke while I collapsed into a corner of the sofa.

Sipping on the burning whiskey, I glanced over at Faith from time to time, watching her. All I'd wanted-- no, all we'd both wanted, juding by Faith's initial excitement-- was something simple, something a little closer to normal.

But we weren't normal, were we? We were broken, damaged... scarred. Faith and I weren't drawn to each other because of some great romantic compulsion, or even a vague one. It was...

I took a long sip of my drink and let it heat me.

It was because those scars, those marks-- they matched. Unfortunately, that didn't make a damn thing any easier.

Looking over, I saw Faith start into her second cigarette. As it seemed neither one of us was in the mood to do any more talking for the moment, I did something I did very rarely. I reached for the remote control for the room's massive television and clicked the thing on.

Keeping the volume fairly low, I began absently flipping through the channels. Most of television, I'd found, was inane and completely useless dreck. Passing the channel before the image registered, I had to back-track. One of the better comedies I'd seen in quite some time was playing.

I was trying not to laugh. I was really trying, but I was losing the fight.

((Open to Faith))
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