Re: AHS: Sam A & Cris M
None of the hotel bullshit was logical. She knew it wasn't good news she was sharing, but she got the feeling he was one of those people that liked having all the direct fucking answers. Like, no point pretending or whatever, and he might as well know. And, shit, she was almost a hotel expert; she'd been mixed up in this shit forever. So, yeah, she talked, and she grinned when he leaned over and pushed her hands lower.
The lighter caught, and the smoke burned, and the scent of cloves joined the scent of the sea air, and she loved the fucking waves out there, barreling against the sand like there was nothing else they'd rather do. Maybe that was creative, artsy bullshit, but it was soothing somehow. "I want to sleep on the beach one day," she said, and she always liked the outdoors or whatever; she made Neil kayak and rock climb, for fuck's sake. "Don't tell me about the water dragging me away or anything, papi," she cautioned, pointing with the smoke the way she'd pointed with the black straw in the club.
Miles and miles of highway, and she was quiet after he said he could use another drink. She leaned back against the door, shoulders out the window and her hair would be impossibly fucking tangled. But no one who came to Elsa's cared about that shit. Fuck, no, man; those people were paying for weird. They didn't want a nice, untangled white girl.