When Logan woke up, he was back in his bed. She was there again, her back to him, a blood red bow in her hair. The first thing he thought, rather ridiculously, was how much it reminded him of Lilly's My Little Pony collection. She and Veronica used to play with them, even when they knew how to drive. The two of them would make up little stories and run them up and down Duncan and Logan’s back. Then Duncan and Veronica would leave, and he and Lilly would be alone. At first, Logan would feel awkward, all those jeweled eyes watching him while he pulled Lilly’s top off and while she wrapped her hand around his cock. He would get over it fairly quickly, though not soon enough.
She turned around, sensing his wakefulness. She smiled softly, but it was enough to light up a room. "Hey there, Jaded."
He looked away, oddly ashamed that his one-night stand had seen him screaming in the street like a maniac. "How'd you get me here?"
"With minimal difficulty," she joked, perching on the edge of the bend. Her features were soft with either sympathy or pity. Logan wasn't particularly fond of either. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I want to be drunk."
Her cheery facade cracked a bit. Lines appeared around her mouth. He wanted to make a joke about her getting wrinkles, because that always seemed to upset California girls. But he was suddenly realizing that she was no California girl. She had some sort of accent. Korean? Chinese? He couldn't tell. It all sounded the same to him.
"Is that why you freaked out?" she asked point blank. He hadn't known that Asians were so direct. "Withdrawal?"
"Well, it certainly didn't improve my disposition," Logan snapped. People shouldn't be allowed to be that disarming. "Now, do you want something? Monetary compensation for your heroism? Another fuck? I could try to canonize you, but I hear you need to be a dying virgin to do that." He rolled his eyes. "Catholics."
She let him go on his rant, remaining silent for a few moments to make sure he wouldn't continue. Then she said, "I want to make sure you're all right."
He wanted to believe her, and he almost did for a minute. Then he realized how stupid he was being again and resisted the urge to hit himself. Barely.
"Pretty girls shouldn't lie," he said rather nonsensically. After all, it was the pretty ones who lied the most.
She snorted a little and said, "Sweetie, I'm a few steps up from pretty."
"And I suppose you're not lying?" he said, beginning to become annoyed.
"I'd say as much, but you're not listening to me," she observed with a sigh.
She collected her things and began to head towards the door of his apartment. Her bright red bow stood out alarmingly. He was reminded of giggling girls singing ‘80s hits at the top of their lungs and trying to convince him of the social relevance of My Little Pony. It had been simple then.
"Do try not to have a mental breakdown on the sidewalk again. Getting you up the stairs was a bitch and a half."
"I could say the same for you," Logan muttered.
She waved goodbye, flicking him off for a moment before lowering her hand. Then she continued sauntering out the door, shutting it without a sound. It had a sense of ending, though not necessarily finality, and left his apartment cold, dark, and dead.
Like so many others. Like so many would be. Like he sometimes wished he could be.
He decided it was time to be drunk again, and that alone gave him the will to get out of bed. After all, he’d get over it quickly. Just not soon enough.
