dirty rotton past, - closed

[Lottie Mixon]

---

“No, wait....no” The hand gripping her arm wasn't even in the realm of soft as it pulled her out of the room she had been renting. She had been looking into apartments this week, really, she had been. She swore. She had every intention of getting out of this piss ant hotel that she had been in ever since this move and into something more permanent, or even something nicer. She hadn't really thought that the manager actually looked in on this place. Thought that maybe...she could skate on by without having to pay her rent for a little bit longer. This place even had rooms by the hour, who cared what sort of person was squatting in this place. Really. She was just one, tiny little person, only came in and out to work...and maybe she was too loud coming in and out when she was drunk, and yes maybe that was what she tended to spend most of her money on but so what. She kept to herself otherwise...wasn't that god enough. Apparently not. The fingers closed even tighter, making her wince, “Ow Hey cut it out!YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” Feisty, she was pulling backward with all of her might but the issue was that she was such a small person. Didn't help that she was too skinny right now. She was skinny always, but now even more so. Had been enjoying the local culture just a little too much. Night life was new...so she couldn't remember the last time that she had had a full meal. “It's just a couple of bucks man, I'll have it for you in the morning!” The air was oddly hot whenever he wrenched the door open, all of her belongings clutched to her chest and half tucked into the overly large bags hanging off of her shoulders, sock clad feet attempting to dig into the carpet and failing. He was going to have her out of this damn building in only a moment. She hadn't made it nearly hard enough for him. She would have had to work for weeks to make up the amount of money that she owed him...she might have. He was going to absolutely not be getting it now. He was thrusting her forward, stumbling gracelessly over her feet and onto the hot cobblestones in front of the building as she snorted in her direction. “FUCK!” she just barely managed to keep herself from stumbling, but most of her things fell out of her arms and onto the street around her.

“Yeah? Well. FUCK YOU TOO BUDDY!” She screamed while raising her middle finger to the building and he was locking the door behind her. At least, she hoped that he stubbed his toe really hard on the way back into the building. That would serve him right. “Fuck” she muttered to herself. Wasn't a huge deal, but it was annoying. She wasn't a stranger to sleeping on the street. One night wouldn't kill her...she needed to find her shoes, and put her shit back in her bag and she could go from there. Pick up, Dust off. Move on. Worked best that way. Maybe she could not go into work tomorrow. Maybe she would meet somebody fabulous tomorrow and just move in instantly with them. Also wouldn't be the first time that something like that had happened. Her jaw jutted out to the side as she dropped down into a squat, shuffling through her things and not giving a damn about the people around her, muttering under their breath as they side stepped her. No. Of course not. Why would anybody offer to help her? That just would be too kind. Still, if she had any sort of shame, she would have died of her own embarrassment a long, long time ago. Clutching her bag in one hand she started shoveling in things with the other until it was full, and tucking her purse down in the bottom of that. The second bag wouldn't fill all the way and she couldn't...her shoes. That was what she had forgotten. Her shoes. Tucked under the bed like she had left them...he had been pounding on her door so hard, yelling at her in all sorts of colorful language she had been nervous. Why? She didn't know...she just tended to get that way whenever people were yelling at her. “fuuuck.” She muttered again. Couldn't have even worn the black socks this morning either. White. They were going to be ruined.

Standing up she brushed herself off as best she could. Given her attire, really, it was a good thing that it was warm enough outside. First order of business was to find somewhere to score a forty, and second would be to find a nice dark, unoccupied alleyway. She hadn't seen anybody in the way of homeless population but she was really hoping that was just because she hadn't been looking at all. Which, she hadn't been. Why would she have? Cursing in a rather steady stream under her breath she pulled her bags up over her shoulder, combined they were bigger than she was, too many random pieces of clothing she supposed. Who knew what was in the bags, they hadn't been properly sorted in the last...well who knew how long. “Shows over assholes,” she always over pronounced her curse words, didn't even know why half of the time. Others was just because she wanted everybody around her to know just how angry she really was. Like now. She was a badass, she didn't need people staring at her like she was some sort of charity case. She wasn't asking for money. Maybe tomorrow, depending on if she made it to her job or not. Her fingers tugged at her bottom lip, slight worry threatening to nag at the back of her mind and she just, couldn't let that happen. “Wanna move out of the way buddy?” her eyes lifting to the hulking frame currently blocking her path...irked to not notice him fully at first, but it was like her eyes narrowed into focus. Neil. Her Ex-Husband. What on earth was he doing here? It had been a good year and a half since she had seen him last and yet somehow, he looked absolutely different, bigger and otherworldly. Her weight shifting onto one foot, her hip jutting out to the side as she looked up at him. Couldn't even breathe his name. Shouldn't he be off on an island somewhere? He should be. “What...you followed me?” totally irrelevant. There was no way that he could have followed her. Not after he had all but bodily thrown her out of his place last time. She didn't have any idea how he was here....he was still in the military, and that was nowhere near here. “Well I hope you enjoyed the show!” She moved to side step him, walking just a little too quickly down the path just behind him.

---

Wearing

[Neil Orman]

---

Neil pulled his motorcycle, his pride and joy, over to the side of the road, parking and removing his helmet. He was going to hit up one of the local pubs tonight and always loved an excuse to get on his bike. He had doing more apparating than riding lately, and he sorely missed riding everywhere like he had in Straya. He fluffed his hair back up with one hand, still holding the bike up between his strong thighs. He wasn't crazy familiar with all of the watering holes around here since he'd only been living in the country for a couple weeks, so he sat on his bike for a moment just looking around to decide where he wanted to go in. His fridge was full in his apartment, but sometimes he just didn’t feel like making anything. It was reminiscent of the days when all he ate was take-away. And if he was lucky, tonight he was going home with more than just a full stomach. The chickies here just loved his accent and he just loved chickies, so when he was feeling particularly hungry he ate at a pub instead of ordering take-away. He turned his head in the direction of some commotion that started in front of the building that he was parking by. Looked like someone was being thrown none too nicely. That sucked. Especially when all of her things scattered on the sidewalk. She was awfully pretty, nice legs. He shook his head, down boy. Though, the gratitude of a damsel in distress thing could be fun.

Poor girl, he knew what it was like to be threatened by a landlord. Of course, he hadn’t personally been bodily thrown out of an apartment before, a bit too large, too intimidating for that, but still. Didn’t even look like she had shoes on from where he sat on his bike. He was going to go over and help her out, see if she needed anything. She looked up to curse rather loudly at a few of the staring passers by. He stood up and leaned fairly heavily on the handlebars as he got a good look at her face. “Well shit.” It was his ex-wife, Lottie. He sat back down with his hands on his thighs. He should drive off right now. Drive straight home and put a chair under the door handle, turn off his phone and drink himself away before he did something stupid. She would be fine; she was adaptive. He needed to put his helmet on to cover his face, and shit. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. He was a glutton for punishment clearly. He pushed the kickstand down under the heel of his boot a little harder than he wanted to, but he was frustrated with himself. He threw his leg over the bike and stuck the keys in his pocket, still wondering what he was doing. He walked over to stand off to the side of her. She was far too angry to approach right off the bat. He shook his head again, he was way too goddamn nice. “Wanna move out of the way buddy?”

He stayed silent for a moment, waiting for her to recognize just who was standing in front of her. He’d give it to her, he looked different now whereas she looked just as he remembered. “What...you followed me?” Ah, yes. He had forgotten that the world revolved around her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lotsie.” He winced internally as her pet name rolled right out of his mouth. A combination of things had brought him to Austria, but not one of them had anything to do with her. He hadn’t even known that she was here. Anyway, their marriage had been over for long enough, and ended on bad enough terms, that that shouldn’t even have been a question. “Well I hope you enjoyed the show!” She stepped around him and he resisted the urge to reach out and grab her arm to stop her. This was going to be a minimal touching zone. “Yes, walk away, that feels real familiar.” He muttered to himself; he should let her walk away right now. He turned around to look at her as she kept walking hurriedly. She had no shoes on and even from here he could tell that she was too skinny, even for her. He hated himself sometimes. “Sheila, wait!” He jogged up to her; she was walking pretty fast considering she was only wearing socks. “Let me at least take you somewhere, you shouldn’t have to walk without shoes.”

---

Wearing: literally what's in the pic above.

[Lottie Mixon]

---

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lotsie.” She could feel her eyes narrowing. Staring at the stubble on his face with the bitterness unfurling at every passing moment as to his presence. He had grown. How was that possible. Maybe she was just shrinking. Stranger things had happened. She really wished right about now, she had shoes, just for the reason that she wanted something that she could pull off and hit him with, calling her that. He knew she liked it, always pretended to hate it, that wasn't going to be changing now, but she would pretend to hate it none the less. It would feel damn good to hit something right about now besides. Since she doubted that she could stroll back into that motel and punch the arsehole right in the face like she was wanting to, he would have been a nice, solid substitute. She wasn't going to be pulled in by his charm of those giant, giant arms. Not the accent or the fact that for a very short time in her life, she had shared his last name. At least, she thought she did, just like she thought she had changed it back. She had been going by Mixon this whole time and didn't even know now, if that was actually her name or not. Another thing on the list of things she was never going to actually go and check.

“Yes, walk away, that feels real familiar.” She almost turned around, almost asked him to repeat what she was pretty sure that she had just heard. As if it wasn't all his fault, as if he hadn't been the one to push her away. She was the victim here. He was just being a dick. Like he always was. At least this time, it was obviously him that had come searching for her, instead of the other way around. He could have at least saved her from being thrown onto the street, could have gone in there and paid her bill. But no. Did he care enough about her to do something selfless? No. Of fucking course not. He was likely laughing to himself, just like everybody else was. She could feel the urge to start muttering to herself, foul things about him, growing stronger with every step of distance she put between them. “Sheila, wait!” “Arsehole” she muttered again. “Let me at least take you somewhere, you shouldn’t have to walk without shoes.” Her eyes rolled, her hand lifting to pull her wild hair out of her mouth and tossing it back over her shoulder. Like he gave two tiny rat's shits. “I have shoes,” she spat bitterly, never slowing. They were just in her bag, and that meant that she was going to have to hunt for them, and she really just, didn't want to. That would have meant stopping and standing around like an idiot. She had an alleyway to find.

It took her a long moment of him following her, walking beside her like he was escorting her, like she couldn't manage to walk by herself. Finally she spun, fast enough to have her almost off balance, her hand jutting out between them like she was waiting for change. Which, well, she sort of was. “Why don't you, just hand me a tenner, and be on your way. Save us both the time.” She knew he didn't want to be around her any more than she wanted to be around him. The few times that she had gone back to that hot as balls country was on her terms, where she was controlling it, Not the other way around. This was not the time or place, absolutely not the night that she wanted to be dealing with the likes of him. Though, she wouldn't have minded something to drink before she kept her wandering. Wouldn't know which places were truly unoccupied for a few hours, not until last call was called anyway. Didn't want to start sleeping, and be shoved away in the morning. Her large brown eyes shifted up to him in earnest, jabbing her fingertips into his taut stomach, “Well.”

---

Wearing

[Neil Orman]

---

“Arsehole.” Now what the hell had he done to deserve that? He seriously considered letting her go off and self-destruct. He was trying to help her out here and she was going to call him names. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t keep her shite together long enough to make rent every month. They weren’t married anymore, he couldn’t walk behind her and make sure that everything was taken care of anymore. He had his own life, his own problems, to deal with. She reached up to yank her hair out from in front of her; probably tangled up in her mouth or something. He had liked her hair, had liked to run his fingers through it as they were falling asleep, pulling through the tangles that she didn’t care enough about to fix. He clenched his jaw once, twice, and exhaled through his nose slowly. Not the thoughts that he needed to be having right now. “I have shoes.” He looked upwards, questioning why he ever decided that going out tonight was a good idea. Slowly, as though he was talking to a child, which felt about right at this point, he asked her. “Then why don’t you put them on?” He wasn’t insinuating that she was stupid. She was clearly steeped in enough street sense to have survived since she left him, to have survived before they met. Sometimes, however, her logic made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever.

He walked quickly just behind her until he caught her pace. She couldn’t go terribly fast without shoes that she refused to put on. They hadn’t walked too far when she spun to face him. He watched her almost fall over and instinctively reached out to right her, stopping himself just short of actually touching her. His hands closed into fists momentarily before uncurling, that had been too close. He was a touchy kind of guy, but he couldn’t be with her anymore. Give her an inch and she would take ten miles. “Why don’t you just, hand me a tenner, and be on your way. Save us both some time.” His eyebrows shot up towards his hairline before he turned to look down an alleyway to their left almost in disbelief. Of course. It would be about money; it was always about money. It had always been about money. That was what had ruined them. He felt his mind fuzz over a bit, everything around him sort of muffled. He was back in Australia, just before he signed up for the Air Force. Arguing; they had always been arguing lately. Arguing or fucking. Though much more of the former. Up to their eyes in filth, and three months behind in rent. This screaming match was about the fact that the water had been turned off yesterday and she still wanted to go to the local dive and blow everything that they had earned at their terrible part time jobs instead of paying the bills.

“Well.” He blinked at her, confused for a moment before running a hand over the front of his face; not again. He looked down at her still outstretched hand, his muscles tightening as she poked her fingertips into his stomach. None too gently either; he was lucky he didn’t bruise easily or anything. “No.” He shook his head, crossing his arms in front of him. That wasn’t going to happen. Her best puppy dog eyes weren’t going to disway him. “No, I’m not going to give you money so that you can drink yourself into some sort of oblivion before passing out in some shithole.” He would feel responsible then, and that wasn’t something he was comfortable with. Hell, he already felt responsible at this point, and if that didn’t just frustrate him. “You’re going to come with me, and I’m going to take you to some other cheap motel around here.” He was used to giving orders now, used to being obeyed without too much questioning. He didn’t even think that his tone might make her angry until the words were already out of his mouth.

---

Wearing: literally what's in the pic above.

[Lottie Mixon]

---

The longer that she stood here, the more cold she was going to get. That spot, just above her knees on the front of her thighs always seemed to get the coldest the fastest and the breeze was just pushing right through her tights. She knew that he didn't want to have anything to do with her. Not really. He was a nice guy, and nice guys were obligated to try to take care of everyone and everything around them. She wasn't his problem anymore. He made that very clear. She was toxic sludge to nice guys like him. He'd all but told her that very thing more than once. He was already irritated with her and they had only been around one another for a few moments this time. “Then why don’t you put them on?” “To piss you off.” she spat, like he really cared about what was, or was not, on her feet. “Because they are in the mess of one of these bags, and I don't really want to sort it out, in the middle of the sidewalk,” she all but spat, twisting her torso to gesture to the bags hanging off of her person bitterly, like it was the most obvious of explanations. Obviously, she didn't want to be hurting her feet, or ruining otherwise perfectly good socks. She didn't want to have him talking down to her either. She had just shoved all the stuff back into the bags anyway, and she wasn't exactly organized. He should have known that, she sure as hell wasn't about to go admitting to it.

Of course he wasn't going to let her go. He always followed her. She was half counting on it, half actually wanting to get very, very far away from him. It wasn't going to end up the way that she wanted, it wasn't even a possibility. She knew from the look of slight agitation he got from that stick in his ass just twisting a little bit further, that she wasn't going to be getting any money out of him. At least, he would stop this stupid nice guy routine and get whatever lofty rant he was about to start on over with. She didn't want his money. Ten dollars wasn't going to get her anything at all, this was just wasting time. He was only even talking to her because he felt guilty, hadn't done enough charity work or something. She wasn't a charity case. He'd already logged all his hours. He had always said she spent too much money, never knew how to save up for anything. It was because money meant so little to her, fell right through her fingers like water. She had mountains and mountains of debt of her own, maybe...just maybe he had righted his credit since their marriage, no doubt he could see all of the bills floating above her head right now, all of the drama and fighting, none of the good. She refused to let herself think of the good either. He liked to think about the future, all things serious, she didn't. She didn't know where she was going to be in a month, she could be halfway across the ocean in some guys boat for all she knew, she could have been sold into underground slavery, maybe she could be a princess, there was no way of knowing. The longest that she had ever been tied down to anybody, to any place. They might have lived in more than one apartment,but even having a steady place to come back to was still different for her. She hadn't had that since. Didn't want to. She quickly corrected herself.

“No.” Lottie half laughed. Of course not. Why would he do anything that she wanted, no, she could practically feel the condescending lecture coming toward her now. Arms crossing ever so smugly like a damned super hero about to lecture the villain, which was exactly how he had always seen her. “No, I’m not going to give you money so that you can drink yourself into some sort of oblivion before passing out in some shithole.” Her hand tossed itself into the air before retracting. She was all set and ready to pull her biggest fucking tantrum and storm off. Only been back for five minutes and already she was ready to not see him again for another couple years. “You’re going to come with me, and I’m going to take you to some other cheap motel around here.” “Real fucking chivalrous” she shook her head. “Pawn me off and pretend that you fixed me, just so you don't have to think about how tomorrow, I will be right back here, again. No thank you, go find some other woman to 'save'” she air quoted the last word and turned on her heel, despite the commanding tone he was using. He might be bigger now, broader around the shoulders even since the last time that she had seen him, but she didn't think so. She wasn't going to let her pride dig itself even further underground than it already was. Heaving her bags up over her shoulders, the force of them knocking together and then against her body sending her slightly off balance and she stepped one foot into the street before righting herself back onto the sidewalk, cursing under her breath. She didn't need his help. She needed nobodies help. Least of all. Asshole. Attractive. Ex husbands.

---

Wearing

[Neil Orman]

---

She threw her hand up in the air and he felt the shit storm that was about to fly in his general direction brewing. “Real fucking chivalrous. Pawn me off and pretend that you fixed me, just so you don’t have to think about how tomorrow, I will be right back here, again. No thank you, go find some other woman to ‘save.’” She turned around quickly and heaved the bags that seemed to be bigger than she was onto her shoulders, stumbling a little. He blinked at her back for a moment. Was she? She couldn't be serious. She righted herself and he clenched his jaw before reaching out and grabbing onto one of the handles on the one bad and dragging her back towards him, ignoring the mild cursing he heard. It took every modicum of effort not to growl out his next words. “That’s not what I fucking meant by it, Lotsie, and you know that.” He took a deep breath and looked away from her thinking quickly, not even noticing the use of her nickname. What the hell was he going to do with her? On his free hand, he rubbed his thumb against his along his index finger a few times, a habit he had picked up for while he was thinking after his plane crash when he noticed that he didn’t regain all the feeling in that hand. Looking back to the raging woman in front of him, he smiled fondly for a moment. He had always admired her spunk.

The smile faded just as quickly as he thought about what she had said. Did she think he didn’t care about what happened to her? That he was just looking for a momentary solution to sooth his conscious or something? His grip tightened on the handle of her bag and he was happy that he hadn’t grabbed her arm instead. His conscious was of no issue in this matter. He let go over her bag suddenly and spinning it, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.” He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t do this right now. He opened up his wallet and dug around for a minute, pulling out a few bills. A hundred dollars would get her a few nights, well he hoped it would get her a few nights at least. It wouldn’t be a hardship for him to give her a little money. Not anymore. Ever since he had gotten into protection details and security he made enough consistently to live comfortably. Because he was damn good at what he did. He had even managed to fix his credit and pay off all the debt that the two of them had incurred while they were married. He had even signed the lease for the apartment in this country without a cosigner. But whatever gratification that knowledge usually brought was lost in the turmoil he felt because of the woman standing in front of him. He put the cash in her hand and folder her fingers over it, pulling her close to him as he ground out. “Don’t ever fucking pretend like I don’t care.”

His thumb rubbed across her knuckles once before he let go of her hand and stepped back. Giving her one last once over, if they were both lucky, they wouldn’t see each other for another couple years. He turned on his heel and, once again, he walked away from her. Now, there had to be a seat in one of these watering holes around here with his name on it and some pretty sheila to put on his arm. That might set this night right yet. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, but he made one mistake. He looked back over his shoulder this time. He couldn’t walk away now, looking at her and thinking about all the shit they had, that she could get into. “Merlin, I fucking hate myself.” He turned back around fully to look at her before giving a one long, deep suffering sigh. He jogged back in her direction, where she was already walking off to raise all kinds of hell. He grabbed the handle of her bag again to stop her, resisting the sudden urge to touch her skin again. Because why would he want to do that? “Changed my mind, you’re still coming with me.” He didn’t know what he was going to do with her yet, but he would feel better knowing where she was going to end up. The thought of possibly finding her in a gutter tomorrow morning while he was out didn’t make him feel good.

---

Wearing: literally what's in the pic above.

[Lottie Mixon]

---

Oh no he did not. He did not just grab onto her bag and pull her backward. She damn near toppled over. Couldn't he see that they were fucking heavy? Knocking her about wasn't exactly how she wanted to be treated. At least not like this. She didn't want to have this talk, didn't want to be around him. Wanted to just go find somewhere to sleep. “That’s not what I fucking meant by it, Lotsie, and you know that.” She didn't care whatsoever that he sounded angry. He had nothing to be angry about, in her opinion, no reason so be holding himself back from speaking his mind. They were nothing to each other. She knew that. His smile was even more annoying. Stupid, handsome bastard. He let go of her bag so suddenly that she spun with the force of it, huffing audibly. She was tempted to try to walk away again but he might grab her things, he was stubborn like that, they both were, and she really couldn't afford to have anything broken right about now. Not a purse strap or an arm. Had he always been this big? She hadn't shrunk so it meant that he had to of gotten bigger. She didn't see any other explanation for all of this. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.” What? Victory. She almost smiled. She couldn't believe that he was giving up so quickly. He must really not want to deal with her, or actually be busy, for once in his life. His wallet freed from his pocket she could see that he was still doing just about as well as he ever had been, pulling bills and separating them, more than she had asked for, that was certain. No matter what the denomination of them was, there was at least three or four he was folding together...forced into her palm and her cold fingers folded over the bills. Good. Just enough to get her going, just enough to make himself feel like he had done a good deed. Clear his conscious, or whatever.

Her small frame was yanked forward, no longer meeting his eye but thinking about how best to use the money. He was just a passing ship to her. “Don’t ever fucking pretend like I don’t care.” she damn near snorted at that. Her grin hidden by the downturn of her head and the nod should have been just about all that he saw. His warm thumbs passing over her knuckles shouldn't have felt soothing, he did as she had asked, obligation fulfilled. She wasn't going to be sucked back in, thinking that he actually gave a rats ass about her just to get hurt all over again. Leaving him had been a good choice. Clearly, for the both of them. Him with all his money, and his fancy bike and his wads of cash, and her with her freedom. Neil let her go as soon as he had grabbed her, she should have insulted him. Shouting things at his back but she needed the money. There were a couple more hotels on this street that might take her in this late at night without a reservation...would just depend really. Might have to find her shoes first. Counting the money quickly, she tucked it into the cup of her bra without another thought, didn't look at his retreating back, or where he was heading. She should have, could have made life a lot more difficult for him if she felt like it. Now that she knew that he was here, instead she just adjusted her bags from the painful way that they were cutting into her shoulders.

Had turned to leave, gotten a few more steps away whenever the sound of jogging stopped her, and she was twisted right back around again. “Merlin, FUCK” she proclaimed, clutching at the straps of her bags to ensure that they weren't ripped from her or torn in half by those ham hands of his. “Get the- fuck” and he was pulling her. He didn't own her. Never had. “Changed my mind, you’re still coming with me.” What? Like he just got to choose where she went? Hell no. “Like hell I am,” she spat in his direction, tugging against the straps in an attempt to free herself, but the stern set to his jaw implied that no, she was going to do as he said, or he was going to throw her over his shoulder. She hated that. Always got to damn dizzy, was sick for days. People thought that just because she was tiny, that they could go moving her out of the way or lifting her up and flinging her about. Just another reason that she didn't like people. “I'm keeping the money.” He wouldn't go fishing in her bra to find it either, she would have bet on that.

---

Wearing

[Neil Orman]

---

“Merlin, FUCK.” He rolled his eyes, she had always been so dramatic. It really was what started half of the fights that she had got the two of them into back Melbourne. He tugged her lightly back in his direction again. “Get the- fuck.” She wouldn’t fall over with the hold he had on her bag that was still thrown over her shoulder. He could always just drag her wherever he wanted to take her; it wouldn’t be the first time. “Like hell I am.” That was exactly what was happening. He looked her over quickly, still just as small as she was when he had married her; he could easily just pick her up and sling her over his shoulder and there wouldn’t be thing that she could do about it besides make a scene. Granted, that was something that she was damn good at, but throw in a few pet names and roll his eyes adoringly at her antics and people wouldn’t look twice. People didn’t want to care about other people’s personal lives; people were easy and that’s why he was good at his job. It also wouldn’t have been the first time that he had just picked her up and carried her away when she was being stubborn, it wouldn’t be the second or third time either; she was stubborn a lot.

“I’m keeping the money.” He very clearly and pointedly rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Doesn’t even matter.” Because it didn’t in the grand scheme of things. He had offered it, he wasn’t just going to take it back in a fit of pique. He wasn’t like that. He had also seen her shove it into the front of her shirt, so even if he would have wanted it back he more than likely would have had to go after it himself. And he wasn’t really as interested in making a scene. There was a use for making a scene, they would be used excellently for making a diversion or something along those lines, but that wasn’t necessary at all here. “Have you eaten lately?” He asked the question casually enough, but it was a question that he wasn’t sure how seriously he wanted her to answer. He didn’t want to worry at all after he saw her off in a hotel later, didn’t want to feel any amount of misplaced guilt about the fact that he was living well while she couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble with her being thrown out of a hotel in front of him and her no shoes. It didn’t make any sense to feel any guilt though, she was the one who had left him, if she had just stuck around and waited for him to get through boot camp maybe they could have made it. If’s. There was no point thinking about if’s at this point anymore, not with her standing in front of him again.

Somewhat satisfied that she knew he was serious in that he wanted her to come with him for now he half turned back around. “Come on sheila, I haven’t had dinner yet; just have to find some place that it doesn’t matter you don’t have shoes on.” It couldn’t be that hard, and if it really was, she had said that she had shoes buried at the bottom of her bag, they could just dig them out and hit the watering hole he was looking at before. He still had a hand on one of the handles to her overstuffed bag and he moved to take the other handle as well, so that all the weight wasn’t on the one ratty handle. “I’ll carry this.” He lifted it out of her hands easily, even if she was trying to hold onto it, and slung it over his own shoulder before turning and walking back towards where all the food was. He didn’t check to make sure that she was following him, of course she would be, he had her things now, and he was going to help her get to wherever she needed to later. And she had never been one to turn down food, especially if he was the one paying.

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Wearing: literally what's in the pic above.

[Lottie Mixon]

---

“Fine. Whatever. Doesn’t even matter.” Oh excuse her, his highness. Of course losing money like this wouldn't make any difference to him. He was rolling in it. Leaving her like he had he had been flush ever since. Didn't matter to him how she fared, or that she might be in need of some money too. She had considered, for awhile, taking him to court for alimony, but that too, took money and they didn't seem to want to rush a solider like he was, all decorated and shit. Because of fucking course the world was going to side with him. Of course it was. “Sorry sonuva-” she started to putter under her breath, defaming him in every foul way possible as he was refusing to let her go. She was going to bruise – didn't have enough good in her system to really keep from it. Didn't think that it could really be helped...but she wasn't going to stop fighting because of it either. No way. “Have you eaten lately?” What? Her body stilled in it's motioned, locked in a rigid pose of her fingers having attempted to pull his hands from her bag and stopped, he really wanted to know – and she didn't really care for that. Didn't want him thinking about her, or thinking that she was incapable of feeding herself....or of her at all. She wasn't his fucking problem anymore. Her stomach was too empty to even make sound it just knotted further into itself. Her jaw locking shut as she considered spitting at him – let him have her damn things. She could buy new shoes with this money. She just needed to get out of there. Away from him and his damn chiseled features. Really was too good looking for his own good. Needed to mind his business. Her hands dropped – and they always dropped, half because he was fatigued and half because there was a part of her, hidden and nestled away in the little bitty scraps of good person left in her that would always love him. Need him. Though she would be damned before she said as such.

“Come on sheila, I haven’t had dinner yet; just have to find some place that it doesn’t matter you don’t have shoes on.” Her lips pursed in anger, her foot pressing more firmly into the ground beneath her – wanting shoes very badly but – fine....food and then he could leave. She could just use him for money and food and be on her way. Yes. That was a good plan. It would suit her just fine. Slowly, her feet started to move behind him – following him because really, what fucking choice did she have. Hated that she was giving him exactly what he wanted. Hated it. “I’ll carry this.” Sure he would. Would look ever the gentleman as he fucking did it to. Making her look even more shit. “Steal it more like.” She accused to his back as they moved down the sidewalk at a rather slow pace. Oh merlin's hairy balls she hated being made to feel like such a fucking child. Who did he think he was? What, they were together once, a bajilion years ago and he thought that he knew her? Could control her? That she what, owed him something? He left, and that was that. She had fucking moved on. He should just get that, and stop happening to show up the places that she was. She couldn't stand it. And it hurt. Another thing that she was never going to admit to, not ever. Finally, whenever she had finished her pouting and they were more in the food district, her pace quickened until she was walking with her head held high in front of him, leading instead of following – heading toward a place with the biggest portions that she had found so far in this area...and coffee. She would like coffee right about now. Would like a good handful of things actually. Food – he had already promised to her. Not even sparing him a glance she turned into the place and threw the door open – half hoping that it was going to hit him. Oh but the action of doing so had made her dizzy....her ankle turned and she caught herself on the little seating podium. She was fine. He hadn't seen. “One. And an asshole, please?”

---

Wearing

[Neil Orman]

---

He wondered how long she had been staying around here; this bag wasn’t really heavy enough to imply long term residence here. “Steal it more like.” He turned his head slightly, not enough to actually look back towards her, but just enough to acknowledge that he had heard her. “Sure, sure.” What would he want with her things? Did she have any idea how long it had taken him to get rid of all of her things when she had just up and left him? Probably not, actually. Probably hadn’t been thinking about him at all, just her precious freedom. She hadn’t even had that much when they were married come to think of it, she just tended to steal his shirts and wear them. He rolled his eyes, trying to bring himself back to the now. If she really wanted to carry it herself, she could go ahead and do that, but why would she want to when he had offered? He was just trying to be polite after all, considering he had just watched her get thrown out of a building on her ass. Wondered for a second if this meant that she wasn’t going to be staying around for much longer. It would make both their lives easier, it wasn’t exactly a fun time to run into your ex on the street after all. This interaction right now was making that quite clear. He shifted the bag on his shoulder, the worn straps were digging just slightly into his shoulder and he was going to be glad to put it down.

He turned his head so that he could see her in his peripherals, check that she was still behind him since her socked feet weren’t really making enough noise for him to hear her footsteps. She was just following behind him, sulking probably. Though this had been more than enough time for her to get through her pouting stage usually, maybe she needed more time to sulk as she got older. She never had liked it when he was the one in the right. He started glancing at the different restaurants they were starting to pass, trying to figure out which ones were most likely to take them considering she wasn’t wearing shoes, and considering she was probably going to be a handful and a half once they were actually inside. He pursed his lips and slowed his pace just slightly as he weighed the pros and cons of one the diners across the street when she surged forward. Pouting over it would seem; and a goal in mind as well. He sighed and moved to follow her as she turned suddenly to pull a door open with all the force she could muster. His free hand came up quickly to stop it from slamming into his face. He looked up at towards the sky again, shaking his head and wondering what he had done to deserve this. After a nice deep breath and the calming thought that it was just one meal and then he wouldn’t have to see her again for hopefully ever if he was lucky, he walked in after her.

“One. And an asshole, please?” He shook his head once more and rolled his eyes, he was going to have brain damage from all the shaking by the end of the evening at this rate. He held up two fingers to the poor hostess behind the podium who looked decidedly uncomfortable at the sudden invasion of their space. The girl moved out from behind the podium, looking between the two of them and motioned for them to follow her into the dining area. They walked to a table and he set down her bag just under the table as the hostess walked back toward the front of the store. “Alright we’re sitting now, should dig your shoes out. Since we’re at a watering hole and health code and such.” He pulled one of the menus towards himself, not even really hungry anymore but knowing that he needed to eat something. Beer. That sounded like a solid place to start at least. Something greasy to go with beer with always a solid choice, not healthy but solid. He glanced over the menu to watch what Lottie was doing, making sure she wasn’t going to do something crazy like stab him with her knife for no reason.

---

Wearing: literally what's in the pic above.

[Lottie Mixon]

---

Lottie never really, gave herself time to think about what could have possibly brought him to keep, walking with her. To be helping her in any capacity. With her brain, it was very smart to just, never ever look into that option. To never think over much about it. To never wonder about anything concerning him anymore. Couldn't. Didn't even look at him, as the disgruntled youth that was moving to seat them – no doubt just pissy that she had a job, and was required to do it – or maybe just irritated by the fact that she had legs and was being expected to use them or something. Didn't really know. Didn't matter – because there was a table and it was going to be soft on her hips and he wanted to be sitting down. Just – took her a moment longer than was needed to get up off of the podium and moving once more. Practically fell into her seat whenever it was pointed out to her – didn't even need to pull the chair back. She was more than thin enough to fit into the space provided. Too big of a sigh of relief as she eased her tired body into the chair – didn't want to be across from Neil – didn't want to be next to him either. Didn't – well it was too late. She was seated. They were both seated. He bag was hostage by his feet and even with the desire to run right on out of here – she didn't think that she was going to be able to manage it on her own like this – food. She could run after food.

“Alright we’re sitting now, should dig your shoes out. Since we’re at a watering hole and health code and such.” Lottie's eyes rolled. “Oh fuck them, Why are they staring at my feet anyway?” they were tucked up under her now, resting comfortably, even if she was sitting in a way that wasn't going to be socially acceptable to most in a place like this. Even with the hour being as late as it was. “They've seen worse” besides, Lottie was an expert, at hiding her shame. Even just having Neil look at her shamed her. She knew what she used to look like, she knew what she looked like now. The life that she was living. The things that she had done that were no doubt reflected in her skin. And him? With his nice hair cut and muscled frame – had bulked up so much, and he was so very, very handsome. She didn't need to be anywhere near him. Was just waiting for some little skank, to come flouncing over to the table and start going on about how kind he was for feeding the homeless – and then she would stab them. Whoever they turned out to be. Didn't matter. Would stab without discrimination.

Pulling the menu toward herself without any further comment, her lips pushed into one another, chewing on the surface to pull the dead, chapped skin away from her, the hand not holding up the menu, tapping irregular patterns into her forehead, scanning over the surface of the plastic covered paper like she didn't already know what she was getting. Breakfast. It was always going to be breakfast – because that was going to sit in her stomach the longest, and hurt the least. Mop up some of the poison that had been ingested over the last week or so of her life. Just had to find – what would give her the most, in one plate. What she could con the most use out of. Because otherwise, what was the purpose in being here, and of course – he had to already be expecting that was exactly what she was going to do. Finally settling on one, her hands slapped the menu into the table and her attention finally, for the first time – landed squarely on her ex husband. “So just how many hours of philanthropy are you hoping to log here?”

---

Wearing

[Neil Orman]

---

“Oh fuck them. Why are they staring at my feet anyway? They’ve seen worse.” He looked at her again. At the way she was sitting. She had a bit of a point with that. They were going to have to really be looking with the way she had herself all curled up on that seat. Always had sat like that now that he thought about it. Keeping all her limbs close to herself, he had likened it to a cat before. He always thought it had something to with the fact that she was always cold, regardless of the amount of layers she had on or the climate of the area. Maybe some attempt at keeping her body heat to herself. He shrugged, giving her that point and looking back to the simple menu, trying to figure out what kind of food he was willing to force down. Considering he was still surprisingly un-hungry. Burgers. That could be done. Even at his worst, he could usually still stomach a cheeseburger. And some chips. Because chips weren’t even a question at this point. He let the flimsy laminated menu fall towards the table and moved to adjust in the chair until his feet hit the bag at his feet and he stopped moving again. Settling in the chair, and unabashedly staring at this point at Lottie, who wasn’t even paying attention, completely focused on her own decisions of food. It was something that he had noticed through his time in security, more often than not, people were off in their own world, not paying any attention to what other people were doing.

He could watch people and the survey the surroundings without too much trouble. It was the ones who noticed him watching that tended to be trouble in his business.He let his eyes come back into focus on the woman in front of him, out of his thoughts. Watched her fingers tap without rhythm against her forehead as her eyes moved quickly over the print in front of her. He tried momentarily not to compare her to the way she had been before he had left for work all those years ago. Didn’t really see too much harm in it immediately. He was just taking stock of how life was treating her now that she had her freedom. She was thinner, much thinner. Her hair was different. He wasn’t sure if it was a new style to match the times or if she just was bored with it. She looked about as tired as he felt. His lips thinned and his eyes unfocused again, Going back to those months before the life that the two of them had been live caught up with them and they ran out of money to afford rent. When they were still in the honeymoon period and everything was great, sex and drinking and drugs and feeling good about being with each other. He couldn’t remember being tired then, He was pretty sure that that was the only time in his life that he hadn’t been bone-tired.

He snapped back into reality sharply, every muscle on his frame tensing for action at the sound of her hands slapping onto the table in front of him, calling for attention. He turned his head back to face her as he relaxed his posture to see her looking at him just as intently as he had been a moment ago. “So, just how many hours of philanthropy are you hoping to log here?” And there it was. A slow exhale stemming the immediate rise in temper that she was just so good at triggering. “Stop, why do you have to make it like that?” He didn’t understand why she couldn’t just take something at face value. He had offered. This was just dinner, it wasn’t like he was just going to sit here and watch her eat; he was eating too. She wasn’t some lost cause that he was trying to save, she could clearly make her own damn decisions. “We’re just eating dinner.” And if it really bothered her that much, then he could just leave as soon as cheque was paid. She could go ahead go do whatever the fuck she wanted to do with the rest of her life, just like she would go do anyway. His hand rubbed absently at the lower half of his face, across his mouth. He glanced around, for the waitress. Lottie might not have any shame in subjecting others to the awkwardness that was their interactions, but he wasn’t the same way. Kept things closer to the vest.

---

Wearing: literally what's in the pic above.

[Lottie Mixon]

---

Neil was the biggest constant in her life – despite how many times she tried to keep him away. To try to refrain from the way he looked at her. Couldn't face that he was here – looking like he did – and he had just watched her get thrown on her ass. Wasn't something that she could handle right – didn't sit in her head – she shouldn't have come here. Had to – he had stolen her stuff. Yes she could remember that he had stolen her things. Had taken them of of her to make her follow him – for food. That was clearly what this was about. Pity – always pitied her. Kill time – eat as much as possible – and then move on. Go about her way – and he would feel like he helped or something – and then he could go about ignoring everything else about her. Like they had never been anything, like they had never been married and she had never meant anything to him. Which, sounded about right. Things were bouncing around in her head and she couldn't seem to make them stop. Teeth chomping down on the skin around the side of her nail. Itchy. She itched over her whole body. Needed a hit. Get as much out of him as possible. That's what needed to happen. If he wanted to pity her then fine by her. He could put a dollar amount on his pity. “Stop, why do you have to make it like that?” Half smile – her focused turned onto the glowing sign outside of the window in the door. Not him – couldn't look him in the face. Not like this – not when she couldn't stop shaking. She didn't have the mental capacity to listen to him try to make this into anything more than what it was – pity. She wasn't making it about anything. She was just playing this same game that they were always playing. Over and over again. Didn't he remember the last time she had seen him? Had near fallen down a flight of stairs he had forced her from his apartment so hard. Didn't matter that she had been drunk off her ass – clearly it was his fault.

“We’re just eating dinner.” Hurt all up inside of her chest – pulling tighter. Whole body shifting in the seat and pulling her knees closer to her body. One shoulder lifting into a shrug and dropping again. Fine. Could pretend to be whatever it was that he wanted. Was never just dinner. Nobody ever just wanted dinner from her. At least he was actually going to pay for it. Not sweet talk her into the bathroom and ditch her with the bill and mascara running down her face in ugly black tracks. At least she was the one using him. Hand dropped down to match the other wrapped around her legs, overworked waitress heading over in the direction of their table. Clearly not wanting to be there but pushing a large smile onto her face anyway. One that Lottie tried to make her too gaunt face match and failed. Hurt – using the muscles in her face like that. Was too cold – pulled her skin too much. Lowered her chin back down to her chest moments later to let Neil handle the ordering. Could use a water. Could really use a nice strong beer. Something dark – brewed and foamy. Nice and cold – that would do the spot. Warm her from the inside out – stronger if he could make it – something else to push into the webbing between her fingers and then she would have been really, really grand. Maybe he would like her then. Maybe she would be more like the woman that he loved then. Silent – back to her twitching fingers for focus and staring at the way that the menu was peeling in the corner. That paper in the middle separated between the two bits of plastic. Could feel the way that her shoulders were slowly tensing up toward her ears – that tension building in her person. Was going to have to battle her sweater all over again – didn't want to stay up – had been heavier whenever she had been gifted this. Had liked it – and could remember it being warm, even if it was a touch threadbare from the last time – maybe that was because of how it had been in the bag....or maybe...what had she been...the lights in here were very bright. Hurt – all over. Like it was burning her skin. Could just lay down here on the table and hope for the best or - “Juice.” head lifting, glanced over in the direction of the waitress and lowered her head right back down again “I want juice.”

---

Wearing

[Neil Orman]

---

As his fingers dragged across his lips, his eyes wandered back across the table over to where she was curling further in on herself. One shoulder coming up in a half shrug as she hugged her legs tighter to herself. The sudden switch to passivity made him uneasy, felt like a stone was settling in his stomach as she slid from her normal abrasive and brash personality. Her head dropped further as the waitress approached. He didn’t take his eyes from her until the waitress was standing right next to their table rattling of the scripted shpiel that every person who worked on the wait staff said when they first walked up to the table. A smile sliding onto his face easily as he greeted her in return. He could fake being personable with anyone, it was part of the job description, and he had gotten adept enough at it to be able to keep it up even with his mind wandering to a thousand other things; if the room was secure, where the person he had been watching because he didn’t like the look of them had wandered to, why his ex-wife suddenly had shrunken into this quiet little shell. She didn’t even look up to indicate what she may have wanted. He supposed he was just going to have to guess what exactly she wanted; except they weren’t married and living together so he didn’t know if her tendencies to what she liked were the same or if her favorite things to order were the same after the years that she had spent on the road.

He picked the beer list back up for a moment and glanced over it quickly as the waitress went over the specials that were on for the night. He just needed a beer. Didn’t matter what there was to eat, he would eat it, but he was thirsty for the bitter heaviness of a dark beer. Something that was going to creep into his veins and sit, make him sleep tonight. The crinkling of plastic drew his eyes from the words in front of him and across the table again. Her fingers were tightening around her legs as she shifted around in the chair. The sweater that she was wearing looked to be at least two sizes too big and it was starting to slide down her raised shoulders, giving a peak at the level of thin she had gotten down to. Her collarbone jutted out, muscle mass worryingly low, skin dull looking as though there wasn’t much life keeping that body together. It was then he noticed the waitress looking at him expectantly, he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to what she was saying as he was looking Lottie over, she was waiting to take their drink orders and he looked like he was in dream land. “Yeah, I’ll have-” He was cut off from across the table. ”Juice. I want juice” He blinked twice at her, her head going right back down and avoiding eye contact with both him and the waitress. Some sort of direction at least. “She’ll have an apple juice, the large size.” Maybe the sugar in the juice would give her back some of the vivacity that she was missing right now. “I’ll take a pint of the stout here. And two waters.” He indicated which one he wanted on the drink list and added waters as an afterthought, a just in case. The waitress walked away to get them what he had ordered for the two of them, and he was left alone with this too quiet Lottie again.