` candy-coated misery ?

[spencer]

you’re running, you’re trying, you’re trying to hide

and you’re wondering why you can’t get free
------------------------------
`complete `oepn `621 words `that sucked `outfit

Spencer’s hand from the sweat slipped off the bar as he was doing a stunt for an action sports commercial he was asked to be a part of. Falling right on his face, Spencer felt his stage make-up run down and heard gasps when he looked up. “Cunningham good?!” the director called, but he just sighed, getting to his feet, stretching a little. Honestly, that felt good, falling seven feet off a railing and having the air knocked out of him. Well, it didn’t feel good, but it sure as hell woke him up. “Earth to Spencer!” He heard for the second time. He was on his feet already, what more could they care about? It didn’t even hurt. He was used to falling, especially on his face when filing. It was exciting, in a way, for him.

”I’m fine,” he called back in a mutter as someone threw a water bottle at him. From a distant, he heard someone call “Let’s take five!” Usually, he (and everyone else) just consider that a “sixty.” Spencer took in the whole water bottle within seconds as everyone started to scatter out. Before long, he was out of the building off on the sidewalk and he pulled out his cigarette. Spencer dug up a lighter from his pocket, wondering why he even agreed to this gig. It was actually good money and he figured that was probably the only reason why. Guy like him did not belong in Hollywood, really. And soon enough, he was going to LA for stunts in a new highly-budgeted movie. He really needed to stop being a wuss about a small fall. Wasn't his thing at all, though, everyone knew that.

But if putting a grin on his face and cooperating with high-class actors who were a little too stuck-up for their own good mean getting paid, he figured he might as well be smiling for people more often and more having the tendency to punch everyone who disagreed with him or made fun of him in any way. He was always the outcast of the crowd. Contradiction? I'd think so. He was always in it. Always asked to hang inside the crowd, but the way he received them made it obvious he didn't fit it.

He never did take part in their stupid conversations that most of the time did not even have a purpose. It wasn't always like this, thought. He actually grew up with no friends, no one by his side and no parents. Probably why he was always so grumpy and indifferent. But anyway, Spencer never did know what the purpose of talking about the weather was. Because that's apparently a hot topic. He figured that topic had always-ever since the beginning of time-was used to rid any awkwardness of silence between two people.

If that wasn't the case, what made talk about weather so special? The unpredictable really seemed to amuse these people, apparently. As for him, Spencer hated surprises, even though he was always full of them. Weather changes all the time, Spencer could really care less. So there he was, no outside of the building of the filming studio as he started to smoke, watching the cars pass by. He still needed to get that take perfect; it never did take him long, though. Hell, he could actually care less, he was asked to do a role in an even bigger movie. It was almost a piece of cake what he was being asked to do today. Anyway, so he eventually started walking, working on his third cigarette towards the city park where he started to walk around for a bit, not really planning on going back for another hour or so.

[/size]

[devonblakewest]

tell me why i can't get you out of my head

( spencer cunningham ) ( 684 ) ( <33 ) (outfit )

[/font]

Devon couldn't understand why people chose to be the stunt man/person. It was dangerous and some people had died from doing stunts that were too crazy. Hello, they hired someone to do the stunts instead of risking hurt to the hollywood star. She admired the stars that actually did their own stunts. Plus she didn't have to duplicate costumes and hair. That was always a pain in her ass. It didn't help that she was a call-on today since their actual artist called in sick. and so Devon let the refuge of her apartment to dress some stars. Well, stunt man. Who had quite the body on himself, Devon noticed when she was directing him what to wear. At least it was just a commercial; she wouldn't have to dress him again constantly.

Devon usually stayed off the set while they were filming. There wasn't much to interest her on set. The clothes she put on the stars sometimes got ruined which flared her temper since it meant she'd spend hours fixing the little rip or something. And since she had to cloth a stuntman it was needless to say she'd be working on repair. But for some reason she found herself standing on the edge of the set, watching with curious eyes as the director directed and every one else did their jobs. This was the life she wanted, working behind the scenes and watching the movie unfold. It was almost like magic.

She was snapped back into reality when everyone around her gasped. Her bright blue eyes looked over to see the stuntman (cunningham, according to the boss) on the floor face down. She rolled her eyes lightly, thats what happened when you worked a dangerous job. But she still felt a small pull of sympathy on her heart string before she turned away to take her "five." There was never anything worth interest on break. It was stars going over their script and the director working on more perfection. It gave her a light headache sometimes. She watched everyone scatter and made a note that the stuntman actually stepped out of the studio. No one else seemed to notice.

Devon stifled a yawn as she followed his footsteps, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes as she turned the opposite way he went and wandered around, just sight seeing. Though there wasn't much to see since it was all studios. Hollywood wasn't all glamor, Devon had learned her first day on the job. Everything was either perfectly set or covered up with lies. She was a bit glad that she didn't have her name known. She wasn't sure she wanted all that fame. Though some people wanted to mistake her for famous when they saw her walking around the streets of the studios and a pass around her neck. She learned to ignore them as well. She ignored a number of things her life, it seemed; her parents, the people she didn't know and herself. She always put the people she cared about before herself. If they were happy, she was okay.

"You! What is it... West!" She turned her head to see one of the staff people yelling her way, "Where's Cunningham?" Devon raised an eyebrow, like she'd honestly know. She pointed in the direction he walked off to but the person had already ducked back into the studio. Fantastic she thought to herself knowing that meant it was her job to track him down. After a moment of sighing she made her way toward the city park, keeping an eye out for their stuntman. All the while grumbling in her head.

"Hey, they need you back to fall some more." She called out once she spotted him, trying to ignore the smell of the cigarette that he'd smoked. She didn't blame him for wandering off though, since most people took more than a five. But it seemed like this director was more of a 30 minute break type of guy.

[/size]

[spencer]

you’re running, you’re trying, you’re trying to hide

and you’re wondering why you can’t get free
------------------------------
`complete `devon w. / michelle `574 words `that sucked more`outfit

So there he was on the bench, enjoying his smoke. Times like these he liked to say he lived for. Didn’t have anyone around hassling him, no one coming around to tell him where he was supposed to be. His old days were fun when he was thrown from one foster home to another with people not really caring what the hell happened to him unless he was really hurt or something. It was bullshit. No wonder he became a rebel with everything he did.

Went for actions that wouldn’t please others just for the pleasure on his own part. For himself and himself only. That was the fun part, though. He liked stomping on the neighbor’s rosebush and teasing girls to an extent that his teachers start sending conference requests to his “home” so his “parents” can look at him. It was safe to say he didn’t have the same foster parents for more than six months. He’d be put into a new one within that time.

It wasn’t long before that moment of ease and pleasure was just ruined when he heard someone call out to him. Well, he wasn’t absolutely sure that the person was talking to him, but when he looked up, it was a familiar face that was looking down right at him. Of course he’d recognize her. She was the one who did his stage make-up when he felt like pushing her away. She was the reason he eventually gave up on trying to back away because the director insisted on it. Not to mention, how could he forget those peeping breasts and the long well-toned legs?

They need you back to fall some more. That’s what had him looking up at her face for a little while longer. No sign of amusement or humor on her face. What was her deal anyway? Was she trying to be funny or did she seriously just look that down upon him to considering him as nothing but someone who is used to just have ‘fall some more’. He could somehow easily tell that his cigarette smell bothered her. Smirking to himself, Spencer stood at about half a foot taller than her.

He didn’t say anything at first, his eyes just scanned her another time, her lips, the plaid shirt, ignoring the boobs as he looked at her legs again and then the shoes. Lifting his hand, Spencer put the smoke between his lips and inhaled before removing it, exhaling against her. ”Thanks.” It was nothing less than a growl. He didn’t want to be nice, he never did. She didn’t look nice anyways. Wait. But wasn’t that his type? He didn’t want to go with whatever the director wanted. He liked being the independent one, even with the shitloads of responsibilities he had with having a job, even though it was just for being a stuntman in big films.

No one ever did know about him. He was just like the rest of the crew members: mentioned in the rolling credits that people don’t even bother watching at the end of the films unless there’s a closing scene after them. So what if they noticed him? He still wouldn’t care. People annoyed him. Before walking off, Spencer looking dead into her eyes for another long moment, ”You coming?” He asked and just brushed his shoulder past hers and flicked off the butt of his third cigarette to the nearest trashcan.

[/size]

[devonblakewest]

tell me why i can't get you out of my head

( Spencer Cunningham ) ( ---) ( i. want. that. purse. hmph. ) (outfit )

[/font]

"Humor me," She muttered back to him when he asked if she was coming, "Like I have a choice." She shrugged and pointedly made a face when he exhaled into her face. She remembered his face better now; he was Jack Bailey's stunt man. Awesome, another arrogant guy in her life. Devon did her best not to squirm around when he stared at her. Usually people were more conspicuous about such a thing, but this guy didn't seem to care that he was making obvious at what he was staring at. She nudged back lightly at him, when he bumped shoulders with her, though he was quite taller than her. She was use to that problem; it seemed nearly everyone was taller than her.

She looked up at him, matching his bold, dead stare. Unlike her eyes though, his didn't seem to hold emotions. She figured he was one of those "misunderstood" artists just thriving to get to the top of the Hollywood hierarchy. She let her eyes wander down for a moment, once again noting just how toned his entire body seemed. It sent a small pleasure down her spine, but she ignored the feeling and took the steps back toward the studio. Her stance was relaxed; her arm swinging at her side and her other keeping a grip on her bag to keep it from sliding down her arm constantly. It was quite a sizable bag, but every girl needed a huge bag just to stuff things in. Devon was the type of girl who bought something and shoved it into her bag for convenience, only to forget about the product later on.

Halfway back to the studio she looked over at him again, "I'm Devon, by the way." She told him, then noting how his make-up wasn't quite right. She made a small face and reached over to tilt his chin a little to get a better look at the other side of his face - the side that hit the ground, "You're not camera ready." She muttered, more to herself than him. She was saying it out loud as a reminder that she'd have to work on him (ha ha) once they got back. Devon's mind was always full of thoughts, so she often forget one task for another.

Then there it was again; she was looking into his eyes. And she liked what she saw, but didn't say so, only let his face go and turned away from him once more. Devon wasn't the best at being a people person. Most people saw her as a bitch, and to be honest, she probably was. But it was just how she grew up. She ran away by the time she was barely eighteen and had to fend for herself. Not that it was any different at home. Her house had been a battlefield. Between her mother and herself there were constant glares and arguments. Her father did nothing, since he had no balls against his own wife. And after years of it, Devon lost it and burned her father's school down. He'd been a principal of a good school; king of it. She took that way because he never stood up. It made her stomach coil in disgust.

She rarely thought about her parents. Only at times when she wondered if they would have liked where she was now and if they would have liked the friends Devon had and the past boys she had. Her mother would probably disapprove only because she disapproved of Devon, but she liked to think sometimes that things could have been okay.

[/size]

[spencer]

you’re running, you’re trying, you’re trying to hide

and you’re wondering why you can’t get free
------------------------------
`complete `devon w. / michelle `483 words `>,< outfit

He really didn’t care if she didn’t have a choice, it didn’t make a difference to her if she dropped dead right about now. Then again, he wouldn’t really want to be there when she did, he could just be accused of murder or something. Then again, his mother died almost before his eyes and nothing happened to him other than the fact that he turned into this grumpy lifeless angry person for the rest of his life. Anything worse than could happen? Yeah, probably not. Besides, watching her drop dead would be amusing. He could even bang her before she does. Not like he was planning on killing her or anything. This is how Spencer was, though. The craziest, most depressing and destructive thoughts went through his mind and he didn’t even know it. He sometimes even acted on them. Which sometimes was awful.

He studied the look on her face when she looked at him, raising his eyebrow only by one centimeter. He didn’t know how someone could dare to return his signature dead glare. No one ever had the guts. When she started to walk towards the studio, he slowly continued his way after her. It wasn’t long before she looked at him and introduced herself. ”I wouldn’t care if you were Blake Bailey.” First hot Hollywood A-lister that came to mind. He probably wouldn’t give her this attitude if she was Blake Bailey, though. He’d at least make it a little clearer that he wanted to bang her. And then maybe ditch or something. Her love life was already too pathetic to mess with. ”I’m fine.” He thought to free his face from her hand, but never did as he was a little too shocked. Again, how dare she?

He was still looking around, the grass, the concrete, the tree, her boobs, her face and soon enough his eyes met her gaze. That was a little creepy; she was just looking right into his eyes as if trying to read him or something. Or as if there was something in his eyes. He blinked once and moved to get rid of her hand from his face. And soon enough, it seemed like she was off in her own little world like he would be.

It was the same look he usually had when he had random, quick flashbacks of being that orphan with no one to give a shit about what he did and no one really understood shit he had to go though. ”You do have a choice.” He muttered, looking off into the distant at the studio. He was not sure why the hell he even wanted to help her. It was like he knew somehow how it felt to be in her shoes. Then again, Spencer never wanted help. He never needed it once he got used to the fact that it wasn’t coming for him.

[/size]

[devonblakewest]

tell me why i can't get you out of my head

( Spencer Cunningham ) ( 476) ( i have to clean. and work. rawr ) (outfit )

[/font]

Devon was shocked by his answer. Most time Hollywood people at least tried to save your feelings. But not this guy. She nearly punched him but reclined the urge by just dropping her hand and looking away from him. She made no other remark toward him and did her best to just ignore him and give him the cold shoulder. She doubted he was affected by it. He seemed like such a hard ass; Devon had no idea why she tried to even talk to him. She didn't like today. And he wasn't making it much better. She hoped he'd fall again on his face. She scowled a little and just kept her arms crossed over her chest as she walked on, ignoring the heat of the LA and trying not to think about how sweaty she'd get from this small walk back to the studio. She'd also ignore the orders to fix his makeup. Like she'd touch him again.

Once the studio was back in sight she let out a small sigh of relief. She heard his mutter and just paused for a moment and let out a soft laugh, "Not in my world." She shook her head, thinking about her parents and how it was before she ran away from home, "This was my choice and this is the only life I have now." She shrugged and her thoughts wandered back to her parents. Sometimes she wondered how they were doing and often times she was tempted to call her father. She had the thought of them dying and she wouldn't even know. She was so wrapped up in her own world here that they often slipped her mind till later in the day, "They pay my bills and my meals. It isn't the best job but its better than before." Before when she had almost nothing and fought her way into the Hollywood world. When you ran away from home you had support from no one but yourself. In a way, it was helpful, she learned who she was and wasn't soon to ever forget that. It was handy in the Hollywood business.

"Did you have a choice?" She asked, looking over at him, as they reached the shadow of the Studio. She heard a few of the crew members call out to them making it seem like they'd taken hours getting back. She hated the stress level of this job, she'd admit. She often needed a late night at a club and few drinks to unwind. Other times she just sat in her car long after the day was over and just mulled things over. This was really her life and it didn't seem to be changing anytime soon. She just felt lucky to even be where she was now.

[/size]

[spencer]

you’re running, you’re trying, you’re trying to hide

and you’re wondering why you can’t get free
------------------------------
`complete `devon w. / michelle `neh `outfit

Spencer, by far, was really the last person that would want to spare feelings for anyone. Whether that person was a hermit or Barak Obama, he wouldn’t really give a shit. Spencer, at one point, wasn’t sure why he even bothered responding to her remarks. Guy like him usually ignored girls like her, but then again, he also got into bed with girls like her. Thinking about to five minutes ago, he wondered why he didn’t just keep on enjoying his alone time in the park. Looking at her, though, he still felt like he could relate to her. Somehow, he was able to sense that there was something missing with her, too. He wasn’t sure what, but he figured it was almost the same loss he had. He didn’t think about it much, though. She said she didn’t have a choice in her world. She still had that look on her face that something was missing.

He wasn’t sure what exactly she considered the ‘best job’. I mean, he was in Hollywood, being told to go from one place to another to shoot whatever they thought he deserved. In a way, he didn’t have a choice either, but who was anyone to tell him that He pushed away from routine he was forced into as much as he could without having to suffer the consequences. A while ago, it was easy to risk suffering the consequences, but he was pretty much a man now and figured on his own that he couldn’t just flake out on responsibilities. Then again, he was still a bit of a criminal like he was in his teenage years.

He, he could still ditch at this point, this girl didn’t seem like a snitch at all. Though careless about most stuff, he was still careful. As much as he hated to admit it, this was a nice gig and he didn’t want to really lose it because she ends up slipping out the fact that he ditched or something. Spencer raised his eyebrow at her as though he was in somehow of a deep thought. ”Yes and no.” He simply said, not wanting to go into the whole life story or why and how he got here. She had to go back into the studio to continue filming, btu she didn’t want to. That’s the vibe he was picking up from her. She felt like it her obligation to return or something. And right now, all he wanted to do was pull her away from the obligation. For his own amusement as well as for her sake.

From what he knew, she seemed at least like the rebellion. If not, there was seriously no way she was a full-on goody-goody. ”Depends on the situation. At that point, a smirk slowly appeared on his face as he gestured her to ditch with him. He shifted his direction right away before he saw that the crew members had given up on calling out to them. ”This case…we have a choice.” He changed his direction to start heading towards the shopping center nearby. It wasn’t like he was gonna buy anything, but it was better than taking orders from the grumpy director. He hated grumpy people; they were annoying. Ironic, I know. But ya, no really. He wasn’t’ a big fan of grumps. Spencer felt like only he was the only person allowed to be a grump. And that was him.

[/size]

[devonblakewest]

tell me why i can't get you out of my head

( Spencer Cunningham ) ( --- ) ( <33 ) (outfit )

[/font]

She remembered how pissed off people were when Jack had gone missing on a day of filming. Her eyes watched with amusement as Spencer turned away from the studio. Didn't they pick the most perfect stunt man? They seemed to be alike in some ways and Devon felt drawn to him, but in a different way. She understood that they had a choice as well, but it seemed that Spencer didn't have the same thought track that she did when it came to life. He seemed to be carefree and laid back, and Devon worried about work and money. Even though she still enjoyed a good time she knew her responsibilities. And that was work. And making sure she did her job so that she got paid. Devon's mind turned the thoughts over in her head, knowing that she should just let spencer run off but she was considering it, which was already off her nature. She looked over her shoulder, back at the studio, to see that everyone had gone back inside already. Well, that showed her everything she needed to know; they wouldn't miss them that much. Besides, most of the costume fitting was done, Devon assured herself as she turned her attention back to Spencer and stepped in line beside him, "You better make this worth it." She taunted him with the challenge as she headed off in the direction of the shopping center. She had money to spend, but knew it wouldn't be the smartest idea. Money wasn't something she flaunted, even though everyone she knew did just that; flaunted whatever they had.

Sometimes Devon felt alien in the Hollywood world. She wasn't use to living it large and glamorous like all the other people she knew; the A-listers. She was becoming a part of them, her face was starting to show up on tabloids and people noticed how much she hung out with Jack, but she still wasn't use to it. And often did a double take when she saw her face in a magazine. If fashion wasn't something she loved doing so much, she would have doubted that Hollywood was the life for her. She remember how her parents had raised her, guarded, she remembered the way her mother would say she was a disappointment and "completely lazy" and the way her father would sit there pretending not to hear it. It had felt so surreal when Devon ran away from home. And the last image was the smoke that was billowing out of her father's school. She'd done that, was all she could think as she packed her things and marched out the front door of her parents property. She was freshly eighteen and knew nothing about the real world. She knew parties and rebellion and how to stand tall against other people.

She pushed away all the thoughts from her head as she spotted the first few stores coming into view and looked back over to Spencer, "So, Stranger, what did you have in mind?" She didn't expect an answer, getting the feeling that Spencer had ditched on impulse and was slightly showing off. Or maybe he really didn't care about responsibilities. She wondered why kind of life he'd grown up in to not care about such things.

[/size]

[spencer]

you’re running, you’re trying, you’re trying to hide

and you’re wondering why you can’t get free
------------------------------
`complete `devon w. / michelle `429 `outfit

Spencer’s thoughts were just this: responsibilities were just bunches of bullcrap. Of course anyone could get work and money, it really wasn’t that hard. It was just that there were some jobs most people wouldn’t want that people like Spencer just took without a problem. He had nothing to lose being a stuntman. It paid decent, just probably not much as it paid Nina Clarke. He still got decent paychecks. He could tell she was thinking about what to do or not. Was it really that hard of a decision. Then again, Spencer was just expecting too much from her, thinking she was somewhat like him. He reminded himself no one was like him.

It’s not as easy to ditch work as Spencer makes it out to be. He grinned only lightly when she caught up to walk along with him. With him, it was probably like he might have a bit of pocket money, but it was probably just enough to buy himself two sandwiches. Worth it, she says? He didn’t know what that meant, really. Nothing was worth anything for him, what could she be expecting? Did she want to crash the mall with him or something? Walk up to the man passing out random flyers, pull his pants down and run off? A part of him even wondered why this one agreed. Didn’t she hang with the big people now or something?

Of course Spencer’s face wouldn’t show up on any of those magazines. It was always the face of Jack Bailey even though Spencer was the one with the stunts. Face of a Jensen Ackles when Spencer was the one fighting his tussles. Whatever. He didn’t want his face on them anyway. He felt sorry for the people always followed around and getting surrounded by fans and paparazzi. Who would want a life like that, it was just sad. He shifted his gaze from the other side of the street to her face. She was smokin’ hott.

Was she always and he didn’t even notice? Stranger? He supposed it fits. He never was anything more to people. ”Does it look like I have anything in mind?” Well, he really did. He just wanted to ditch work, even if it meant sitting around at the shopping center. ”You?” He didn’t want to ask that. But eh, she was the one who was looking for a reason for all this to be worth it, not him. Again, what did she expect him to do to make his interesting for her? Fall flat on his face or something?

[/size]

[devonblakewest]

tell me why i can't get you out of my head

( Spencer Cunningham ) ( 502) ( she should wipe ice cream on his face ... ) (outfit )

[/font]

Devon didn't expect things from anyone. That way she wasn't disappointed even more by the human race. It was a total bonus if they were entertaining and even better if she got along with them. She wasn't sure about Spencer yet. There were too many questions that needed answering and Devon wasn't about to volunteer to answer them. She shrugged his answer away. She stayed out of the shade of the building and trees, wanting to feel the sunlight on her bare skin; which she had plenty of today. Today was a slightly lazy day for Devon. She hadn't tried to plan an outfit ahead of time, she just threw something together that would match and headed out the door after ruffling her hair a little and swiping on some eyeliner. The girlish side of her mind nagged her that she looked like crap, compared to other days. Devon was too tired to care. That was the problem with Hollywood life, you were worked down to your bare bones and still put to work. You either had what it takes or didn't. Devon was starting to feel like a movie project, a hit movie before its even out, wasn't the best idea for someone like her, someone who was just starting off. It wasn't that she was going to fail; Devon would give it her everything before she admitted defeat. She felt like she hadn't gotten a decent nights sleep in months. Everyone else looked just as perfect as they had started off when she first met them.

"Want some ice cream?" She asked, looking back over at the guy she'd just met. But without waiting for an answer she hooked her hand around his elbow and steered him toward the ice cream store because she wanted ice cream. Yes, it probably wasn't a good image for her to be eating ice cream, but she never cared as much about calories and stuff. besides, there were gyms and trainers now. Not that she'd hire one. She thought they were just a waste of money. As soon as she slipped into the building of the ice cream shop she dropped her hand from Spencer, only now realizing how that could have made him uncomfortable. Whatever. Devon's mind didn't double think the whole touchy part of her personality. If she wanted a hug, she got one. And any sudden impulse to bite or lick wasn't ignored, especially around her Bailey. It was just something she'd never tried to stop. And more often than not, it scared new people away. In the end though, she just laughed about it. If they couldn't stick through that, they wouldn't make it more than a day with her.

She looked over at him before walking up to the person who worked behind the counter and ordered herself something sweet before looking over at Spencer to see if he wanted anything.

[/size]

[spencer]

you’re running, you’re trying, you’re trying to hide

and you’re wondering why you can’t get free
------------------------------
`complete `devon w. / michelle `389`outfit `ewww

I can honestly say that Spencer was just like her in a way. He didn’t expect anything from anyone. Wasn’t really good with trying to depend on someone, that just wasn’t him. He liked himself being the only person he depended on, that way if something went wrong, he would have only himself to blame. That way, he learned more control on himself and wasn’t disappointed by other people because he didn’t expect anything from them. He looked over at her for a moment, watching as her skin glistened from the sunlight on her legs and chest. She was the hottest thing on the set, today, there was no doubt about it.

Then again, there weren’t exactly too many hot girls to look at anyway. It wasn’t a huge production anyway, just a little side thing for him before he went to Morocco. He did hear she was going too. Goody. No sarcasm. Well, yeah, maybe there was some sarcasm. At least he’d have someone to talk to there even though he didn’t want to talk to anyone. For the sake of having someone to talk to, though, Devon could be the one. He continued to look at her when she spoke and just opened his mouth to answer. It was a little chilly today, but he didn’t mind ice cream. Before he could say anything she’d hooked her arm around his and led him into the ice cream. ”Wha—“ Okay, cool? That was something he didn’t see everyday. No one in their right mind would actually…hook his arm and drag him somewhere in a friendly way like she did. Hell, he almost smiled. But he didn’t.

He didn’t feel uncomfortable, just a little weirded out. Okay, maybe he did feel uncomfortable. Did she not know who he was? The creepy grumpy guy that only scared at people, but never talked to anyone? Did she forget? It wasn’t that bad, he guessed. He wasn’t the only one she was used to…touching on set. Hell, he’d even seen pictures of Jack Bailey in magazines being bit by her. He leaned over the counter too and asked for a plain vanilla ice cream, reaching into his wallet when the cashier named the price before he paid for himself as well as Devon, still with money left over. Who would’ve thought?

[/size]