InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "No, it's pronounced EYE-gor."

Veronica Mars (lifeisthis) wrote in afterhearst,
@ 2008-07-25 15:33:00

Always the Outcast
Who: Veronica and Logan
Where: Veronica's apartment, her car, and a TBA place.
When: Friday afternoon
What: Veronica is having some troubles with her job. When you work in the FBI, that means pretty big trouble. But allegiance to an old friend makes it hard to know what the 'right thing' is.

Ever since Matt had figured out that Logan not only knew Curtis Mayfield, but worked for him, Veronica had been worried. Matt was trying to build up his case before presenting it to the big heads. Matt had even interrogated Veronica about Logan. Think that had been fun? No siree. Needless to say - it was a problem. Veronica knew that she'd be outed for 'covering' facts, because that's what the FBI did best (discovering your secrets). No one would flinch for a second to hear her out, or give a rich guy like Logan (with a colorful record) a moment to redeem himself. He was already guilty.

And Veronica didn't even know how guilty she was. She could get out now. Turn him in. Tell them everything she knew. Work with Logan while the FBI listened in with wire taps. She could save herself. But there was no saving them both. There was no saving him. It didn't sit well with her. She paced her apartment, wondering bizarre and unimportant things like why she'd never repainted the ugly taupe walls. She hated those walls.

It was Friday, one p.m. She was supposed to be at lunch, but she had a major lack of appetite. She had eaten a couple of crackers. She couldn't be sure when Matt would go to the authorities. <i>You can't save him.</i> She reached for the TV remote and turned it on, and then cranked the sound to almost maximum volume.

---

Fifteen minutes later she was out the door. She drove in the opposite direction of her office. The curtains were pulled in her apartment, and the TV was still on inside of the place. When she stopped at a street light she pulled a cellphone out of her coat pocket. It wasn't her usual cell. She didn't have her purse, either.

Veronica dialed for Logan.

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poorsnarkyboy
2008-07-25 10:30 pm UTC (link)

God, meetings with Mayfield were excruciatingly boring. Logan shifted slightly, cast a glance around the room. Mayfield was still quizzing Thielman about the job up in Sacramento, so he could relax a bit. Well, as much as you could around Mayfield. It was like trying to relax between steps through a mine field. His hands hurt, the knuckles bruised, and he was pretty sure a finger was broken. That Crane guy had an iron jaw.

Suddenly, from his messenger bag at his feet, came the annoying trill of a cell phone. Not the one he usually used. This wasn't Dwight Shrute, this was the ugly shrill of a cheap pay as you go phone. Logan nearly fell out of his chair grabbing for his bag, fishing around while Mayfield glared at hiim and everyone else shifted uneasily. He was finally able to grab it -- the disposable phone only Veronica knew the number to. He turned it on, covered it with both hands, and looked at Mayfield. "Sorry, boss," He put on his best smirk. "Dealing with an extra attentive whore. Not that this whole meeting hasn't been DYN-O-MITE, but I need to take this. I'll miss you guys!" He slipped out of the conference room.

Immediately, Mayfield stood, pointed to Bonitta, who had been sitting next to Logan. "Search his bag."

Outside the conference room, Logan put the phone to his ear. "This better be good, Mars, or I may have to be kissing ass for the next week."

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lifeisthis
2008-07-26 11:20 pm UTC (link)

"This is the phone call you were hoping wouldn't come. And it's not the one from some old hookup saying she wants you to take a DNA test and then fork over a million dollars." A beat. "But if you have money hidden anywhere in your office, as in cash, now would be the time to discreetly grab it. I don't think there's time for you to go home, so all the money in your mattress won't help."

She turned onto another street. Then got onto the highway.

"Tell me you're heading for a back entrance right now." It was more of a command than a question. "Skip your car. You want to hail a taxi. Go several blocks, get out, then hail another taxi." It might be easy to track down one taxi guy, but by the time they find the second one to ask him where he drove Logan, Logan would be gone from there. Hopefully.

"I need you to pick some sort of isolated place we can meet. I'm driving towards you now." A pause. "I realize I'm sounding very bossy but I'm actually trying to saving your ass, just - for the record."

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poorsnarkyboy
2008-07-27 12:01 pm UTC (link)

"I'm heading for the back entrance now," Logan said automatically. To be honest, despite the sudden adrenaline flooding his system and the feeling of falling, he was relieved. Beating up Crane had not been fun. Sucked, actually. He turned back to the conference room, paranoia making him look for Mayfield. Veronica's voice grounded him, kept him focused, so when he actually saw Mayfield coming out he didn't panic. "Okay," he said cheerfully into the phone, "See ya soon." He didn't hang up, though his thumb moved over the disconnect button, and shoved the phone in his pocket.

Mayfield was looking at him, in one hand Logan's messenger bag. Logan knew there was nearly $500 in the bag. All he had in his wallet was a couple of twenties. "Important call, Echolls?" Behind Mayfield was Thielman and Bonitta, the rest of the men Logan worked with.

Logan was surprised at how easy it was. "My sister. Going into rehab again. Same song and dance, and my cue is to play the supportive brother and help her out." Mayfield had always been a fan of Trina's, since she had set out to be the next Jenna Jameson.

"That's all?"

Logan nodded, walked over to Mayfield. "That's it, boss. Can I get my stuff?" He was pleased to note his hands weren't trembling.

The look Mayfield gave him was inscrutable, but he handed Logan the bag. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, sir." Logan slung the bag over his shoulder, and turned, started walking for the elevator.

"Logan."

He stopped, didn't turn.

"Why is the file from the East Texas job in your bag?" Mayfield's voice was triumphant.

Logan didn't hesitate. He bolted, running for the stairs next to the elevators. There was a shout behind him, Mayfield yelling orders at the others. The receptionist gave a small scream as he darted by, another one as Thielman and Bonitta thundered past. Apparently the group from the conference room had broken up, Thielman and Bonitta following him, the others maybe trying to block him from the stairway.

Logan saw the doorway ahead of him at the same moment Mayfield and the two other men from the conference room rounded the corner. One of the men, Ragsdale, Logan thought, slipped on the slick floor, and if Logan had time he would have stopped to appreciate the fall. Ragsdale's legs tangled with Mayfield, who flung out a hand to catch himself on the wall.

It was the last time Logan saw Curtis Mayfield. The look of surprise and anger, the thick brow furrowed with fury, before Logan hit the door on the stairway. When the door shut behind him he fumbled for the phone in his pocket, taking the stairs two at a time. "Veronica? You still there? Gotcha on the taxis, maybe that place you took me to lunch? Time to save my bacon."

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lifeisthis
2008-07-28 09:30 pm UTC (link)

She had been worried while she could listen, but not do anything to help Logan through all the noises she'd heard. She was relieved to hear him talking as though everything was okay, normal. Or at least the new version of normal they were both entering into. "That'd work, except that I'm kind of needing to get out of dodge as well. People would know to look for me there." She didn't want to explain to Logan how fucked she was now, or would be soon. She didn't want him to worry about more than he had to. If he figured it out, fine. But if they didn't address it, that would be better.

"Just -" She wanted to tell him to be safe but that sounded stupid. "Pretend you're in the Amazing Race." She paused to think. What was some place between them? "Twenty minutes out there's a dive called The Milk Pail. I'll be there. Just focus on getting there, and we'll plan some sort of next step." She hung up, knowing that if Logan really had to respond he could call her back. She wanted him to just worry about getting his taxi's. She would have the extra time to do what she needed.

She'd thought it might come to this already, so she had this planned out a bit. She pulled off the highway in a small town. Driving slowly, she navigated to an old garage and pulled it to the back of the driveway. She left the keys in the car, and slipped away. Once she made it into the center of town, she hailed a taxi of her own.

---

Now she was lurking to the side of The Milk Pail, keeping a watchful eye out for a taxi. She wished she did have a car so she could lean against one. But the last thing she wanted was some motorhead coming out to complain about her on their car. Veronica was cleaning imaginary dirt out from under her fingernails. Ever since she'd seen a picture of Amy Winehouse and her hideously dirty fingernails she'd had this nervous habit.

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poorsnarkyboy
2008-07-31 11:15 pm UTC (link)

Coming around the front of West Horizon's office building, Logan had run into Thielman again, had to run 5 blocks through back alleys and jaywalking dangerously before he lost the guy. He was definitely on the wrong side of town for taxis, and the one that stopped reeked of urine. Logan stepped on a used condom as he climbed in, but was so grateful for its relative safety he sank back against the worn seat. The driver was eyeing him in the rearview mirror. Logan spoke casually. "Fifty bucks if you don't rob me. Break your fingers if you do."

The driver shrugged. "Where to?"

"Ten blocks south, right on Embarcadero, stop on the corner with Magnolia."

The drive shrugged again, started to drive.

Something Veronica had said was ringing alarm bells. Gotta get out of Dodge. Logan had no illusions that being a witness in the FBI's hands wouldn't be all hookers and crack, but had counted on staying alive. His information was valuable, bumping up his own worth. If Veronica was running, for whatever reason, it meant his functional but safe haven was gone. Leaving him and Veronica against the world. He grinned. It'd felt that way quite a bit the last year of high school, those bitter years at Hearst before they split. He never thought he'd be in that situation again.

Logan made the final switch easily, giving the driver his fifty and sliding into the next cab that wasn't quite the peep show on wheels. He went through his messenger bag as they drove to The Milk Pail, taking stock. A couple of files, the East Texas one being valuable. A dime bag of dope. $500 bucks rolled up in a rubber band. An extra shirt and pair of boxers. "What, no 72 hour kit?" Logan murmured, closed the bag and leaned back against the seat again.

By the time he hit the Milk Pail it had been dark for hours. He paid the driver, turned and studied the Milk Pail, searching the shadows.

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lifeisthis
2008-08-01 03:46 am UTC (link)

Veronica's fingernails had possibly never been cleaner. Logan might not have recognized her petite figure as it emerged from a shadowy place at the corner of the building, except for the fact that he was expecting her. Plus - you don't send out a goon to beat someone up if they're that small.

She was wearing a baseball cap over hair that had been tied into a low ponytail. She'd traded a kid ten bucks for the hat. It proclaimed in blue that she was a 'Dodgers' fan. She was tired, but felt relieved to see Logan. Wanting to call him about twenty times, she had kept a resolve that she didn't want any taxi guys overhearing anything Logan might say.

He may, or may not, have seen that she smiled wanly at him as she approached. Her adrenaline had been pumping since that afternoon. Seeing him meant things were only amping up, but in a way there was a relief, a familiarity that she treasured. She knew it had to do solely with him and what he'd always meant to her. Problem was she could never put in words what that was. Plus, it seemed like half of the time she'd known him (not counting the earlier years when he dated Lilly and she didn't really know him) they were at odds and she felt like cutting ties with him.

But if that were really how she felt, then why was she risking her career, and possibly life, on him?

They said nothing at first. Examining each other under the dim street lights. He looked pale to her. She noted he had a bag. Veronica wanted to hug him. Or maybe she wanted to be hugged. Instead, she pressed her eyes shut in a long blink. Restraint.

The Milk Pail was closed, but there was a small place next to it that was still open. The sign on the door (small, hard to read) said it was a 24 hour cafe. It was called 'The Spot'. Veronica lead him over and through the door. It was a dark place, and a narrow establishment. The only windows were on the front. It made her feel like she was a cat curling up under a bed. There was a group of a few teens at a table, and two exhausted waitresses filling ketchup bottles at the counter.

Veronica picked out a booth near the corner of the back right side, and slid into her side.

"I have the strangest craving for scrambled eggs."

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poorsnarkyboy
2008-08-01 11:26 pm UTC (link)

"Probably the only thing here that won't give you botulism." Logan answered automatically. The lack of sudden forward motion was abruptly exhausting, and he leaned back against the cracked vinyl seat.

Veronica Mars meeting him under the street lights, looking tired and Logan knew part of that was his fault. He'd asked her to save him, manipulated her into a position where she had to choose. Him or her own life. Logan hated himself for that, hated himself that he'd just wanted to put his arms around her because she'd been there for him. Just like before.

The sound of a coffee pot being set on the table made him sit up, pour himself a mug. The scent revived him, and he pulled Veronica's mug over and filled it up. The waitress was standing and waiting; Logan looked at her in surprise. "Scat. Now." She gave him a look and went back to her ketchup.

"I take it, given our surroundings and lack of men in suits and sunglasses, that I have not been taken into the FBI's gentle care." He added four packets of sugar to the coffee, slurped at the sweet liquid. "It was that douchebag Matt. Fucking party." He stared moodily at his bruised knuckles. "Is that what happened?"

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lifeisthis
2008-08-02 01:54 am UTC (link)

She was too tired to snap at him for being rude to the waitress. Working at The Hut made her sympathize. But honestly, she wanted the woman to keep her distance and at that very moment, it didn't matter all that much to Veronica how that was achieved.

"I doubt you would find their care very gentle," she answered calmly, not touching her coffee. "He hasn't done anything yet. But he's way too close, and scarily determined. He doesn't ever see gray, just black and white. That's not so good for people like us." She gave in and took a sip of her black coffee. It was bitter but it gave her a jolt of energy. But did she really want to be so aware of her current situation? A couple of Vicodins, please?

"He wants to fill a quota, and he may not be the only one. You're involved with some bad stuff, you already know that. He wants to pin me for aiding and abetting - covering everything up for you because you're an old flame. Mayfield isn't enough. He wants lots of heads on the block to get..." She karate chopped the air.

"Truth is that I don't think I can keep you safe no matter what I do now. I don't ever like being in the business of people who are corrupt. The truth is that I break too many rules, and see the need to do that, to be in their organization. So for now I've taken a...sabbatical." She pressed her lips together, they felt dry. Leaning forward, she continued. "In the interest of being honest with someone, I'll let you know that my sabbatical comes in the form of a faked abduction." She gestured to the hat. "Ergo this. I don't have my car. I can't use my credit cards. I don't have a change of clothes with me. But don't feel any pity just yet - you're in the same boat. Well. Except you're not wearing a hat."

She slumped back against the back of the booth. The air felt stale, smelled like burnt toast. Reaching for a packet of sugar, she ripped at it furiously, getting most of it on the table instead of in the coffee. It felt like a sign, an omen. Just one more defeat.

"We have to somehow figure everything out before the -- farmers, do." Nice codeword, huh? "Whatever you have, it may not be enough. Luckily I have experience being a detective." Unfortunately the bad guys have lots of guns. Speaking of...was that a purple bruise forming on his jawline?

"Care to fill me in on what happened since we last talked? You didn't happen to accidentally find a million dollars and discover your Uncle is President - one who is willing to pardon us from jail time since orange is such an unflattering color?"

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poorsnarkyboy
2008-08-05 11:41 pm UTC (link)

"Truth is, you're being you, Ronnie." It kinda slipped out, prompted by her pale face and the helplessness in her eyes. He had very deliberately not called her Ronnie, even in his mind; it had always been FEDERAL AGENT Mars. The sentence hovered in the air, and Logan sat up, busied himself with his messenger bag.

"If I had known hats were in for, uh, people like us, I would have dressed appropriately." He rummaged through the bag, double checking the contents. "Since we last talked, I have made a daring escape from the forces of evil..." He trailed off, and abandoned the bag, began to push his finger through the sugar Veronica had spilled.

When he finally found his voice he couldn't look at Veronica, kept his eyes on the concentric circles he was making in the sugar. "Let's see, beat a farmer half to death on the Fourth of July, God bless America." He held up his hand, waggled the fingers at Veronica to show off the bruises. "Today rode around in some shit taxi and I may have to go to the free clinic to check for STDs. Ran over much of San Diego, running from my fucking crazy boss."

He shook himself, sat up and met Veronica's gaze. "Look, Veronica, I'm sorry, I didn't think it would get this bad." He signed, scrubbed at his face. Missed his big, expensive bed with the Egyptian cotton sheets. "All I have is $500 and a clean pair of undies." He tried a grin, tried for that cockiness that had driven her crazy in college. "With that we can take over the world, right?"

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lifeisthis
2008-08-07 05:36 am UTC (link)

He was using familiar name-terms that he wasn't supposed to use. It was just polite, and a clearly unwritten but firm rule for ex's. Yet, being so tired and taxed already, there just wasn't the strength to pretend to be offended, or even give a defensive look. She just looked away for a long moment. She didn't know what Logan was doing.

Finally he'd started to talk again. Humor. She liked humor. Just wished it could fix things. She was used to being an adult, even before she was one. Right now she wished she could confide in her Dad, ask him for advice. But the last thing she could do was implicate him like that. She'd made a call to someone who was giving him a message not to panic when he was told Veronica had been kidnapped from her apartment in San Diego. That was all he could know. In a way, she hoped he was proud. But he would be less proud when he knew that this involved Logan.

Keith Mars respected loyalty, yes. But he'd told Veronica that Logan Echolls just couldn't get his nose clean and never would - and Veronica needed to stay away from him to keep her judgment clear. That made her wonder. If love clouds your judgment, was it that her love for Logan made her bad at her detective abilities? Or was he a bad kind of distraction, and that was all?

She'd always thought there'd be time to figure that out during college. But he'd taken off and she was too proud to initiate contact. She'd tracked him down enough to figure out the mystery that was 'Where did Logan go?' but that was all. He didn't even know she'd done that much. That's what she wanted. For him to think she didn't care.

But going on the run from the FBI with him probably wasn't sending that message.

"The world is a bit more expensive than you remember," she finally spoke. "When I made you watch 'Thelma and Louise' you were genuinely holding out hope that those two would be able to soar over the canyon to safety, weren't you?" A beat. "Closet optimist," she mock-sneered at him as she shook her head.

Some more faux-insulting of Logan seemed like the right thing to do. "If this turns out to be a scam to get me to hang out with you again, I will kill you, just - FYI." She cleared her throat. Time for business.

"The suckiest part is that anyone we want to run to for some shelter, we can't. Because they'll all be checked in on. And I mean anyone. Even the people that would be last on our list. Since I ran, they'll be keen to run after. Even though they don't know that I ran of free will. I faked the scene fairly well," she explained. "What this means is that we are literally on our own right now. We have no friends. Which reminds me of high school. I did survive that. So not all hope is lost."

She looked around. "We need to do some more taxi hopping to someplace to stay. No grand hotel suites, either. You're going to have your very first Motel 6 experience, my friend." She raised her hand and called out to the waitress, "Check, please?"

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poorsnarkyboy
2008-08-10 11:05 am UTC (link)

Logan's thoughts about Thelma and Louise were probably darker than Veronica even knew. No one ever made it across the canyon. Or across the bridge. Or even through college without crashing and burning. It was Veronica that had always brought out that optimistic side, that attitude of figuring things out and fixing the problem. Logan had faint hope that maybe she could fix this.

Logan left a twenty on the table, for the spilled sugar and half-drunk coffee, and followed Veronica out the door. It took a while to flag down a taxi, and Logan found himself relaxing, the two of them together in the dark, and had to smile to himself. On the run, the FBI and Mayfield gunning for them, and maybe Veronica was right, it was all so he could just hang with her again.

The taxi dropped them off at some generic La Quinta inn, and Logan remarked, "Free Wifi. This place is high class. Just don't tell me about the funny stains on the sheets." They checked in, Logan gave the clerk fifty bucks, and they headed for their room. He held the door open for her as they entered, and they both stopped, stared at the two double beds. "All the comforts of home," Logan said, to break the silence. He walked further into the room. "What, no mini bar?"

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lifeisthis
2008-08-10 01:58 pm UTC (link)

"This is nothing like the Grand," she remarked, trying not to think anything about the fact that he held the door open for her. I mean, she was saving his ass - he owed her. It was really the least he could do. Plus, maybe he'd become more of a gentleman...a thought occurred to her, maybe that really who he was now. Just another clone of a suit. Suddenly, the sweet gesture seemed tainted with her idea of 'evil business'.

"There may not be a mini bar, but I bet you can find a half-eaten Snickers under the bed," Veronica informed him as she turned on the lamp between the beds. There was a light overhead, but it was dim. She hated places like this. She'd spent too many times tracking cheating couples here. She knew what they did on these beds. The only reason the rich housewives didn't care was because they were too busy trying to have a decent orgasm before their pilates class ended and they had to go back to their mansion.

"I've got bad news. There's probably no room service, either." Not like that wasn't obvious. There was just a need to fill the silence. The room wasn't large enough for her to feel disconnected from Logan. Maybe if she went into the bathroom, locked the door, and stood in the shower she could feel some space. And it wasn't that she minded him for any specific reason, it was just a little awkward. The fact that she might like the arrangement was unacceptable to her Veronica-logic.

She was pretty sure he was feeling the nervous surge of adrenaline she was feeling. They were, after all, and not to make it sound dramatic - on the run from the law. Specifically the FBI. Kinda heavy stuff. You don't walk away from this without something. If you walk away at all.

She grabbed for the TV remote that had a silver chain on it, so that no one could steal it. Clicking the TV on, she realized most of the channels were static-y. Oh, come on. "If you have a secret luxurious yacht on the coast of Puerto Rico that you aren't telling me about, I will be severely pissed." Clicking around, she found the familiar black-and-white faces of Lucy and Ethel. I Love Lucy would have to do.

Sighing, she sunk onto one of the beds. And the bed sunk significantly. No support there. The bed had probably been there since the Reagan-era. "I wish I hadn't just watched that Dateline episode about germs in these kinds of places. I'm afraid I've already contracted Herpes from the TV remote."

There was no way she was going to sleep under the covers. Logan's money could have let them stay at a nice place, but only for one night - and then they'd have no money. Also, they needed to stay at out-of-the-way types of places. No one was coming here. So at least there was one good thing about the motel.

Veronica was cranky.

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poorsnarkyboy
2008-08-16 09:12 pm UTC (link)

Logan, recognizing the signs of a bad mood, kept his eye roll to himself and went to the other bed, sitting gingerly. His tie, already loosened and sadly wrinkled, was jerked off, and he threaded it through his fingers, vaguely comforted by the feel of the silk. "No, no yacht. Not anymore, Mayfield's either confiscated everything or blown it up." He stared moodily at the Lucy stuffing chocolates into her mouth for a moment, and then was up again, pacing the room. "And I just bought Easy Rider on Blu Ray."

Nervous energy forced him to undo the buttons on his sleeves, push them impatiently up. He realized suddenly the kind of business guy strip tease he'd been doing, and forced himself to sit at the foot of the bed. Strip tease. Not funny. Not in this kind of room with Veronica and God knows how many memories of illicit trysts. He pushed away the thought. "I'm sure there's someone you know who went off the grid. Someone and someone's daughter?" He leveled a look at Veronica.

She looked back blankly, and Logan was up again. "You hungry? I could run over to the McDonald's next door. Our evening would be capped if we ate a Big and Tasty value meal in this shithole. It would give you time to think of some story as to why we can't go to Duncan." He was suddenly pissed, thinking of ten other places he'd rather be than here where gonorrhea was growing merrily on the toilet seat.

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lifeisthis
2008-08-19 07:13 pm UTC (link)

Veronica had been sitting there, content to sulk silently. She had not been watching Logan - just the wallpaper. But when he dropped his not-so-subtle hint she turned her head. The nerve. But her first burst of snark was silenced when she saw that he'd 'gotten more comfortable'. Now, anger flared in her eyes from the fact that it had given her pause. She said nothing, and he suggested McDonalds. Nothing could sound grosser at that moment.

"Logan, when you asked me if I knew where Duncan was, I actually wasn't lying. I don't know where he is. But thanks for the trust." Her lips tightened and her head bobbed in a nod, as if she was saying 'this is what I should have expected from you.'

She was sparked enough to rise up from the bed, then. Duncan was a sore spot for her. For him too, sure. "I'd love to see Duncan. I'd love to see little Lilly." Veronica could never just think or call baby Lilly, 'Lilly'. It was too weird.

"I'd love to be able to call Duncan and just ask him 'what's up?' But neither of us have that luxury because Duncan and little Lilly had to run away deep enough so that we can't find them, ever. It was selfish, but the right thing to do. And hell, I helped him do it. And damn the luck, I'm good at my jobs. So he's lost to us."

Anger. Anger. Anger.

"I don't want McDonalds, and I don't want, nor need, your attitude." She turned around away from him, still speaking aloud. "And dear God, we are going to kill each other before anyone even has a decent chance of finding us." She exhaled loudly - almost comically. "I really didn't think my karma was this bad. We need to go out and open doors for little old ladies."

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poorsnarkyboy
2008-08-20 12:52 am UTC (link)

It was incredible how he could go from just soaking up her presence to wanting to throttle her. Trust her? She asking him to trust her when she questioned every little thing he did? But in this... Logan knew how Veronica felt about Duncan, knew the anger she felt over being questioned over it was probably more because she didn't know where he was rather than Logan being ill-mannered. So he accepted what she told him without comment, didn't let his temper rise to her heated remarks.

He grinned reluctantly as she spoke of karma. "So beating the dickens out of some mid-level thug earns me a night in a La Quinta room with free wifi AND the clap." He raised his eyebrow at Veronica. "If I'd only known this sooner."

He moved back to the bed, threw his tie on the comforter. The sound of Lucy's antics was suddenly very loud. "Look," he said, feeling suddenly exhausted, despite his hunger. "I have one idea. Just one. And it ain't a rich uncle in Dubya's cabinet who can get us off. It's Dick." He grinned, realizing the pun he had made, but didn't pursue it. "He kinda went hermit, mostly because of West Horizon. Mayfield tried to pull him in, too." That pointed to territory Logan didn't want Veronica to map out. "But he left me an email address, in case I ever... Let's just say in case. Let's find a library or internet cafe tomorrow, and I'll drop him a note."

He looked at his messenger bag, at their meager amount of supplies and money. "Plus, I think we need some supplies. Tooth brushes and toothpaste and such. So," he looked at Veronica again. "Can we call a truce? You don't trust me and I won't ask you to do so, kay?"

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lifeisthis
2008-08-20 08:07 pm UTC (link)

Veronica whipped around to face Logan. "Dick?" she questioned blankly. She didn't even register what he meant for a second - resulting in a semi-second of embarrassment. A thriving porn career would save them, really? But no. Casablancas. Of course. "That boy's never been able to get anyone off." Yes, she was punning her way along.

Red alert, Veronica. Logan went in on something that Dick steered clear of? Dick's standards were low, below the pond scum low. What did this possibly mean about Logan's standards now? Veronica threw questioning eyes at Logan, but didn't say anything in regards to that. She hoped he knew he'd have to answer some questions about this later.

"An e-mail address." As in, Dick anticipated Logan needing a cabin in the woods to hide in for a while? "Fine." She kicked off her shoes, indicating she clearly wasn't planning to go anywhere tonight. "But I gave up brushing my teeth years ago." Well, that was kind of ew.

She walked over to her bed, pulling the pillows up from under the cover, wondering if she'd be safer with the pillow cases on or off. She was angry with her last comment, and angry with Logan. As she threw a pillow down with extra force she said, "I don't do truces. Or windows." The trust thing was a sore sport. It had always been a sore subject with them, in particular.

"I have to sleep," she said. She took off her coat and placed it over the pillow. And that was that. She didn't look at him, she didn't go for the light, say goodnight - just laid down with her back to him. Exhaustion had caught up with her.

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