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))