Kate Gregson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vanillajello) wrote2010-02-14 06:33 pm
vanillajello) wrote2010-02-14 06:33 pm
Random Motel near Baltimore, Sunday Evening
Kate had been at this motel since Thursday night. She'd spent the days cooped up in her room, or taking walks around the surrounding area. There wasn't much to see, but she'd told herself that at least there weren’t any gremlins popping out or anything unusual falling out of the sky. In essence, at least it wasn't Fandom.
And the evenings were spent in the motel bar, dressed in her least sixteen-looking clothes, wearing the kind of make-up Alice had tried to get her to use. She hadn't been carded once. It was that kind of a place; indifferent, sleazy, kind of depressing...
She was never telling Mitchell about it.
There'd been some random thirtysomething guy, staying at the motel on a business trip, who'd bought her drinks and told her she had an interesting name and an even more interesting life story. And she'd smiled and said she’d grown to like the name, and oh hey, had she told him about that messed up thing that happened when she’d kinda been involved with Colin Farrell?
... Yeah. This time she was January Harcourt, born in South Africa to a boxing promoter and his trophy wife, grown up all over the States, and currently residing in Monaco. He'd bought it all. (He'd been most interested in her cleavage, anyway.) And she'd been amused. It was simple and easy, and so totally removed from her real life.
But now he was gone, and tomorrow Kate would be gone too. Back to Fandom.
Probably.
For now, though, she was still here, with a glass of orange juice in front of her, and the only thing reminding her that it was Valentine's Day was the drunk middle-aged couple at the corner table loudly declaring their love for each other.
[ooc: NFB due to distance, open for calls and text messages, although depending on who you are, she may not pick up straight away.]
And the evenings were spent in the motel bar, dressed in her least sixteen-looking clothes, wearing the kind of make-up Alice had tried to get her to use. She hadn't been carded once. It was that kind of a place; indifferent, sleazy, kind of depressing...
She was never telling Mitchell about it.
There'd been some random thirtysomething guy, staying at the motel on a business trip, who'd bought her drinks and told her she had an interesting name and an even more interesting life story. And she'd smiled and said she’d grown to like the name, and oh hey, had she told him about that messed up thing that happened when she’d kinda been involved with Colin Farrell?
... Yeah. This time she was January Harcourt, born in South Africa to a boxing promoter and his trophy wife, grown up all over the States, and currently residing in Monaco. He'd bought it all. (He'd been most interested in her cleavage, anyway.) And she'd been amused. It was simple and easy, and so totally removed from her real life.
But now he was gone, and tomorrow Kate would be gone too. Back to Fandom.
Probably.
For now, though, she was still here, with a glass of orange juice in front of her, and the only thing reminding her that it was Valentine's Day was the drunk middle-aged couple at the corner table loudly declaring their love for each other.
[ooc: NFB due to distance, open for calls and text messages, although depending on who you are, she may not pick up straight away.]
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Now he was just doing it for the hell of it.
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Click.
Now he could get back to the important business of brooding over the fact that he'd eaten his last potential romantic prospect.