BEFORE
"I wish things have been more normal when we had met," Lila says.
Spencer recalls the events of the past few days. There was the art gallery. The chase from the police station. The pool and his hesitant I, uh, I fell in. He remembers wearing clothes that weren't his, and he remembers taking out his gun as Lila's friend turned erotomaniac unsub devolved completely in her home.
"Lila," he says with a laugh, "believe me when I say this: I've never known a normal day in my entire life."
They make more conversation; she delaying the inevitable goodbye that makes itself known three separate times, and he willing to listen and give her his undivided attention.
When they part, it's with a tender understanding and a small frisson of potential.
Does it make you feel anything?
Spencer thinks of her as he flies through the stratosphere. The Hollywood starlet with the mischievous smile. His picture might be printed in gossip magazine this time tomorrow, with his hand on her shoulder and her chin resting on that same hand, but he cannot find it himself to care.
Right now I feel pretty good.
