| Hard Candy |
[11 Dec 2007|04:54pm] |
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mood |
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 cynical |
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Even at two o'clock in the morning, Las Vegas hummed with energy, one that never fully shut off. Oliver had been back in the city for less than a week, having kissed his grandmother farewell before he departed, promising her a letter as soon as he returned. It remained unfinished back at his suite, but he had full intention of getting the envelope into Amelia's hands before too much longer. A promise to a lady was a promise worth keeping. A gentleman would have done nothing less.
He hadn't seen or heard from Jill, nor did he expect to. She had made it perfectly plain that she no longer cared if he lived or died, and he wasn't sure he didn't feel the same way. Bitch. She was almost worse than Corrinne, since not even Mommie Dearest had ever insulted him by pretending that she cared. If he liked nothing else about the woman, he could at least say she was honest.
( Oliver Jerzyck, Savior? )
( Yeah, Not Likely )
She watched him some more, and her bruised mouth tried to offer a smile before she realized that it hurt too much. "I wouldn't put it past you either. You're really gonna buy me somethin' to eat?" Oliver waved a hand down the sidewalk. "Cabs usually stop about a block from here, outside of the clubs when they let out. Come on." Candy's shoulders did something else inside the sweatshirt, and then she fell into step beside the tall man in the nice clothes. He was kind of a creepy bastard, but he hadn't been the one beating her up. And he didn't seem likely to want to fuck her after he finished paying the dinner tab. "I suppose you have a name."
He almost said Desmond, but then he decided that with certain faithless attorneys out of the picture there was no one to hide anything from anymore. "Oliver. It's nice to know you, Candy."
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