(no subject)

[knowthyexits]

This has gone on for too long. Sarah's not ashamed of what she's done (even if she's slightly unnerved by the fact that she hadn't had her memories while she did it), but she still hadn't sought out Cook either. Three weeks since it's happened and she's tired of hiding. She knows Cook's general habits and so she knows where she can find him. She waits until she feels up to the task and then heads for the Hub to find him and put the issue to rest.

It's not that there is an issue. It's just that she doesn't want one incident to ruin whatever acquaintance-type of friendship.

"Cook," she gets his attention with a quiet comment, leaning her elbow against the bar and ignoring the fact that she can tell that she's lost weight. It's not something she wants to think about (especially now) and so she dismisses it instantly, keeping her attention on him. "Can I get you something? Beer? Wine?"

Comments

[grabmyballs.livejournal.com]

Three weeks is a long fucking time. A bloke can do a lot of thinking in that span of time, whether he wants to or not. And Cook has been thinking. He can do, contrary to the beliefs of some, and he can even use logic at times. He's come to some logical conclusions, dismal fucking ones, in the three weeks since he and Sarah fooled around.

Namely, she's fucking done with him. Why else would a person stop hanging around another person? They weren't buddies. They didn't pal around at the Hub every other night. But she bothered and he spilled blood for her. For what? So that Cook could feel that familiar cold shoulder get turned his way the second he acts like what he is.

That's the conclusion he came to a while ago now. When Sarah sidles up beside him, it's only right to him that she gets a taste of her own medicine. Something clenches hard and cold inside of him and he doesn't look her way. "Free bar," he grunts in reply. He doesn't need her.