[She didn't have the weekend off. At least she hadn't had it off two hours ago. Apparently it was terribly easy for a man to walk into a hospital with scrubs on, lie his way to her ER, and con her out of a night's worth of work. She'd had to leave a message with Bartholomew and Remy, and to be honest she has no recollection of doing so. It almost bothers her that it is so easy for Irving to con her into a weekend out of the city. It should bother her he knows her dress size and delivered an evening gown to her. And box of lingerie.
Still, he'd had both, and. Smiled like he did. So she has the weekend off, and they're leaving Paris, and she's in the gown and lingerie and laughing up until he goes oddly quiet. And then she has to ask.]
You...do own this car, yes?
[No answer save for that one little oath. Merde.
She shuts of the GPS as it's given and braces herself against the door, peering back at the car trying to keep up.]
...Please say all you have in the trunk is luggage.
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Still, he'd had both, and. Smiled like he did. So she has the weekend off, and they're leaving Paris, and she's in the gown and lingerie and laughing up until he goes oddly quiet. And then she has to ask.]
You...do own this car, yes?
[No answer save for that one little oath. Merde.
She shuts of the GPS as it's given and braces herself against the door, peering back at the car trying to keep up.]
...Please say all you have in the trunk is luggage.