CASTING CALL:

Damon Salvatore – Yoshi

Jolene Taylor/Salvatore – Joy

Authors Note: Please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors that you may encounter. This writing is older and we did not proof it before posting.

DAMON'S POV –

Moving on. It was something Damon was use to doing, at least in the sense of physical movement from one place to another. But as a vampire his heart was very hard to change, it was like all of his emotions were heightened and carved in stone. Over time one could control that to some extent, but when you loved, you loved with everything in you and that was exactly how Damon was. Unfortunately, it was the same with pain and heartbreak and a man could only take so much before he wasn't a man anymore. Before he was nothing but a hollow shell, a resemblance of the person he was, the monster he was. He had reverted so far back into his old ways in a sense that he had lost whatever goodness Elena had managed to bring to life in him. Why had he been so naive to think that he could really make her happy? Truly make her feel loved. He should've known the moment that Stefan was back to his old self he would be second best again. He would never be first choice, and that made him hate himself and hate life. He would've killed himself, but his pride wouldn't let him. He didn't want anyone to be able to take credit for his death, and even if he was the one who would drive a stake to the heart Elena and everyone in Mystic Falls would know that it was them that caused it. No, he was too good for that. He was too good to go the coward's way out, but he was also too good to stick around and take the emotional beating he was submitted to on a daily basis. How had he managed to last as long as he did was beyond him, he loathed himself for the amount of wasted time.

He had been traveling a month now, stopping here and there through small unknown towns, aimlessly wandering the continent in search of a new home. The further he was away from Mystic Falls, Elena, Stefan and all the memories it held, the better. His crystal optics flashed down to the map he had opened in the passenger seat. He knew he had fancy gadgets on his iPhone but he was doing things the proper way; trying to enjoy nature and all that bullshit that people did when they found themselves in emotional turmoil. His phone began to vibrate again, making him curse under his breath as he stared at it sitting in the middle compartment next to his cup of blood he had been nursing on. He had packed a cooler of bags since he couldn't very well keep a human donator in the car with him. He supposed he could've but they would've talked to him and he had no desire to speak. Damon's eyes glared at the phone as though it had done something terrible to him, but curiosity killed the cat, and he got some sick enjoyment out of knowing that everyone back home were pining away from him; wondering where he was-including Elena. His hand wrapped around it, resting it on the steering wheel so he could drive and read at the same time. The roads he was traveling were next to desolate as he drove through New Mexico. He was running out of gas soon and he'd have to stop. His gaze lowered to the screen, a puff of breath escaping his lips when he read the text. 'Damon, where are you? It's been a month and you haven't spoken to any of us, not even Ric. I miss you. - Elena'

"If you miss me so much you should've thought about that before you left what we had for my brother," he snarled under his breath, and in that moment had Elena been there...he probably could've killed her. She was inherently selfish, almost exactly like Katherine; she just had the ability to be kind and emotional but both women has easily mutilated and ripped out his heart and he wanted nothing to do with the Petrova line anymore or any doppelgangers. He just wanted away from it all, he wanted a fresh start, a place where he could do or be whoever he wanted...even though he wasn't entirely sure who that was yet. He deleted the text, ignoring it like he had been before he tossed his phone back where it was. Alaric had tried getting through to him countless times, and he had the urge to answer his rings more than once, but he knew that whatever he said would just get back to Stefan or Elena and he didn't want that. He didn't want them to think about him anymore, he just wanted them to move on and live their lives without him. He knew without a doubt that if Elena or Katherine came waltzing back into his life he wouldn't offer them a second chance, he couldn't because it was too devastating. It was only a couple of hours later when his tank to his camaro was practically empty, so he pulled off into a small town called Ruidoso. Once he pumped and paid for his gas he parked at a bar across the street, getting out to have a drink and probably find a hotel for the night. He slammed the door to his car, all too happy to be stretching his legs, but that's when he smelled it...blood.

Damon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he concentrated on the noises that were perforating his eardrum as he listened to his nearby surroundings. That's when he heard murmurs and angry threats coming from a dark alley on the other side of the bar. In a flash he was standing to the side of four men who had a young girl pinned to the wall. Blood was seeping from her nose and lip where they had hit her, and one of them was jerking down her jeans when he approached. "Come on bitch, spread those legs and show daddy what's there," his hissed vehemently. Damon's eyes webbed out in anger, dark veins spreading down below his eyes while his pupils dilated and eclipsed with crimson. A vicious snarl ripped past his lips, fangs protruding from his pearly whites like daggers as he went to the first one. In one quick spin he snapped his neck, the man dropping at his feet as his hand reached out and curled around the neck of the other one. "Your time is up!" He said simply, his teeth sinking into his neck as he sucked him dry in less than ten seconds; dropping him to the floor as well. The crack of the third man's neck echoed in the air, before he saved the one in front of the girl for last. His fist slammed into his chest, ripping out his heart before he threw it on the ground; kicking him over to pile on his friends. Damon's eyes shifted to the girl, now petrified with his actions. "Shhh, don't be frightened," he told her, hoping his velvet voice was enough to calm her down. He quickly wiped off his bloody hand on one of the men's jackets, before he stood back up; his hands gently cradling either side of her head as he looked into her opulent pools.

"Listen, all you're going to remember is that I came down here after I heard you scream and I beat up these men until they passed out," he told her, not wanting to put anything else in her head because he was going to let her feel her own feelings, he just had to manipulate them slightly so she wouldn't freak out. She blinked a few times then, the compulsion taking affect as she looked at him. "Are you alright?" He asked her, his hand very slowly going to her pants, but his eyes stayed fixated on hers. He pulled them up, zipping them for her before he examined her bleeding lip and nose. "There's a bar next door, let me help you with that and buy you a drink. I'm sure you need one now," he forced a laugh, leading the way out of the dark alley before he got the bar door for her; letting her inside. He sought out the restrooms, finding that it was small enough there they only had one single stall for both males and females. He took her into the men's bathroom since it was empty, locking the door behind them as he helped her sit on the countertop. He wet some tissue under the sink before he started cleaning up her lip and nose. "I'm Damon, by the way," he introduced, his eyes flickering to hers and holding her gaze for a moment. "Damon Salvatore. What's your name?" He inquired, rubbing off the last bit of blood. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, and he was grateful for that...oddly enough.

JOLENE'S POV –

Jolene was comfortably slaving over paperwork, the part of her job that she hated the most, but knew she had to do. Her office was small in comparison to the rest of the shop, but it was cozy. It represented three generations of Taylors: her grandfather, her father, and herself. There was plenty of blood and sweat invested in the place and she couldn't see it go down under her watch. She was determined, but she had always been that way, and she was as determined as she was resilient. She needed to succeed because she wanted to prove to her mother that she wasn't worth being left for. Jo could look back on her life and always feel this presence on her shoulder, as though someone was constantly look over her and watching everything that she did which only pushed her to be more than she was. Her father had accepted her for who she was and never tried to pressure her into doing anything, but follow her dreams because he just wanted her to be happy. And she was happy. Her childhood, as fated as it had been at the beginning, had turned out pretty amazing. Her mother, Regina, left her when she was three years old so Jo's memories of her mom were little to nothing. All she could remember were glimpses of dyed blonde hair and ruby lips because her mother always took the time to put her make-up on in the morning. Jo's father, Derek, had always done his best to try and paint Regina in a soft light, a light that she didn't deserve because when Derek was at work and Jolene was in her crib, her mother was having several affairs. It wasn't even a secret. Everyone in town knew that her mother was the easy slut in town, but Derek was quite gullible, but Jolene, looking back on it, knew that he had loved her and still did.

She knew it was why her father had never remarried after they divorced and the divorce probably wouldn't have come at all if Regina hadn't gotten pregnant. For nine months, Regina pretended that she was pregnant with Derek's child, and maybe she did want to believe that, but when the baby was born, it was quite clear that Derek wasn't the father. Jolene's half-sister was half black and her mother took that as an excuse to leave. She packed up her bags, took her new daughter, and ran off with the baby's daddy as though Jolene and Derek didn't exist. For years, Jo battle with the idea that her mother wouldn't take her too. Maybe she wasn't worth it so she strived to be worth it in anticipation for that one phone call that would come, but it never did. Her mother never called and Jolene buried the only picture of her mother that she had in her closet and Jo never looked back because she realized that her father was so much more than her mother ever deserved. Derek was the perfect man—gentle, kind, loving—and Jolene, at a very young age, knew not to take that for granted. So she would go to her granddaddy's shop with her dad and she would watch her grandfather and father work together on cars all day long until she was old enough to help too. By the time she was twelve, she had successfully helped her grandfather put together an engine for a 1935 Auburn Model 851 Supercharged Speedster which she proudly steered around the church parking lot in her grandpa Jimmy's lap. And where all the little girls in the neighborhood wanted to stay inside and play barbies, Jo was out playing kick ball with the boys.

Being one of the guys was a good thing until she hit high school where the only person infected with cooties was Jo. She never got the whole dressing up for school thing, she always came in t-shirts and jeans and for four years took auto shop as her elective, the only girl in the class each year. She loved the smell of gasoline and coming out from under an engine with grease on her hands and smudged on her face because, at the end of the day, there was always a beautiful car purring just for her. She couldn't get away from that satisfaction, but it was a love that only the boys understood. She didn't have any female friends; she didn't even know where to begin to strike up a conversation with them. It was awkward and people made fun of her for it. Her sexuality was put under scrutiny until the summer before her senior year when she decided that learning how to do her make-up and learning how to walk in heels might make her life a little easier. For three months, she switched out her wardrobe for clothes she could still work in, but instead of baggy jeans she would wear daisy dukes and t-shirts meant for toddler aged boys. She could still look back on the first day of her senior year and see the looks of astonishment on everyone's face because somewhere underneath her baggy clothes she had been hiding the perfect female figure. For once, she had some popular attention and a few girls she could talk to that didn't mind that every once in a while she would blurt out a Doctor Who reference or that she could show up their dad's where fixing cars were concerned. What didn't change were the boys in shop that knew her for who she was and not who she pretended to be, but that story was over and done with now. She had discovered who she was later than the average person, but she was comfortable now.

When she graduated high school, she went to the community college to see if she could get a degree in sociology, but she was force dealt another hand of ugly cards. At nineteen, her grandfather died, and at twenty-one, when she was preparing to get her bachelor's degree, her father was diagnosed with a advanced stage of prostate cancer. She tried very hard to maintain some normalcy and go on, but went chemo didn't work and the doctor's tried radiation, her father's body didn't take well to it. He became tired all of the time and Jo could feel it in her bones that she was going to lose him so she dropped out of school and started taking night classes to certify as a mechanic while taking over her daddy's shop during the day. Ten months later, Jo was scattering his ashes in Grindstone Lake and she was forced to adjust to a life without family. A lot of her friends surrounded her, but she knew her daddy was in a happy place so she moved forward knowing that she had two guardian angels looking over her now. At twenty-three, her life was pretty static. She did the same things every day and spent Friday nights with the boys playing poker, smoking the occasional cigar, and drinking beer like water, but Jolene was happy and that was what counted. She had no desire to leave her little village or her life because she loved it despite not having anyone to share it with.

She sighed a little, knowing that she was getting far too nostalgic leaving room for serious error on her inventory so she got to her feet, stuffed her wallet and keys in her black ripped skinny jeans and pulled her cropped leather jacket over her white t-shirt and she closed up shop. She hopped onto her Ducati Streetfighter and drove down the road to the bank which just so happened to be next to the town's bar. She went up to the ATM and put in her debit card and withdrew a few twenties when she heard the rustle of footsteps coming towards her. She glanced to the side and noticed four strange men coming towards her so she hurried and tried to cancel her request to get away sooner, but she was stubborn, she always had been, she wasn't going to leave without her card and that was her fist mistake. Just when her fingertips gripped onto the edge of the card, the first of the men came up behind her, cupping her clothed pussy from the front. "You really shouldn't have done that," she growled. Growing up with boys as role models and friends had taught her a thing or two. She thrust her elbow back hard into the man's side, making him yelp, and when she whipped around she noticed that this wasn't going to be a fair fight. Before she could get a punch, two of the men were on her, grabbing her arms, and the third was stuffing a sock down her throat. The fourth, the one she had hit, came back at her, punching her square in the face. She could feel her bone snap in her nose and a gush of blood poured out onto her lip as a second blow came to her face, her lip catching on her teeth, splitting the sensitive flesh before the men dragged her off into the alley.

Jo squirmed and kicked and tried so hard to get away and scream, but she couldn't overtake the four fully grown men. Her screams muffled against the sock as tears started pouring down her cheeks as one of the men unzipped her jeans and pushed them down her legs exposing her thong. She looked up in an effort to not see any of their faces, when she noticed a fifth man, but she didn't know if he was there to help or hurt her to. She saw his face contort in such a weird way, but it was dark and she couldn't quite see so she just passed it off as a facial expression, but then he was moving so fast and she heard the snapping of bone and then he grabbed the last of the men and ripped the guy's heart out. Jo's eyelids were opened so wide she thought her blue orbs would pop out of her head and her chest kept rising and falling as she stood there and shivered, completely frozen. She watched his face soften and return to normal as he acknowledged her and told her not to be afraid, but she was very afraid. She swallowed hard as her eyes locked with his, his hands cradling the sides of her face like a gentle friend and he said something and almost instantly everything changed. Without realizing it, her mind's perception and memory of the events altered, but her feeling of terror remained present of which she was sure was the fact that she had almost been rapped and the men were still there, passed out, ready to wake up at any moment. When he asked her if she was alright, she swallowed hard, shaking her head a little as he grabbed onto her jeans, pulling them up her legs, and buttoning them up for her. She didn't have it in her to say anything, but follow him.

She walked into the bar and kept her head down low and found every last bit of confidence and assurance that she had in her was gone. She had never been that violated before—never—not even consensually. Her mysterious savior guided her to the men's bathroom where he helped her onto the countertop and went out of his way to take care of her. As she sat there, she couldn't help noticing how blue his eyes were. The outer hue of his iris was lined the color of what Jolene thought the color of the ocean might be had she ever had the chance to see an ocean in her lifetime, and then the color changed drastically and grew lighter like the sky on a cloudy summer day with a tint of green shading around his pupil. She looked into those eyes as he softly dabbed a wet towel to her lip and her nose, unknowingly distracting her with the softness the swam in his soul. The sound of his voice was just as complex as his eyes were, with layers of emotion, as if he had been alive for a hundred years and had experienced so much more than his twenty or thirty some odd years had provided to him. She swallowed hard, clearing her throat, "Jolene Taylor, but everyone calls me Jo." She carefully slipped off of the counter, rubbing a bit too close to Damon than she would have liked for strangers. She turned around and flipped on the sink, grabbing onto her dark raven tresses so that when she brought her mouth down to the flowing water of the faucet, her hair wouldn't get in the sink. When her throat was moist enough not to scratch, she flipped the water off and grabbed a paper towel dabbing at her mouth and chin, wincing a little. "I've never met a Damon before," she managed to smile before going over to the door, but then she turned around and looked at him and took one step closer to him, extending her hand. "I don't know how to thank you. Four full grown men and you still decided to help me. You must have ninja super powers or something," she laughed softly, "Thank you." She leaned up and placed a soft kiss just above his jaw line on his cheek, her full pink lips rubbing against the stubble of his face.

She knew she wasn't thinking properly because her mind felt hazy and funny almost like he was eliciting in her an emotion she had never felt before and because of it she couldn't place it, but she liked it. She pulled away from him, her eyes softly sparkling as she went to the door and unlocked it, opening it up before walking through, making sure to hold it behind her for him. She made a B-line for the bar and leaned up against the counter. "You okay Jo?" Jolene nodded, "Damon, meet Frank owner of the only bar this side of Ruidoso. Frank, meet the man who most definitely just saved my life." Jo nodded, looking over at Damon, having a hard time trying to place him. "It's on me, I owe you and this is pretty much all I can do." She pat the bar stool that was next to her before she settled on top of the one next to it. "Start us off with a bottle of Bushmills will you Frank?" The man nodded, reaching down into the bar for two shot glasses before going towards the back and pulling out a tall battle of single malt Irish whiskey. He poured both shots full before leaving the bottle with them, leaving to attend to his other customers. She grabbed onto her glass and held it up to him with a slight nod of her head before she brought the glass to her lips and took the shot in one gulp, her fingers shaking slightly. The closed her eyes, her mouth pulling at the corners as the liquid burned down her throat and warmed her belly. "Mmm, that's good. Thank god for alcohol." She shook her head, grabbed the base of the bottle, pouring more liquid gold into each of their shot glasses.

"Not to sound rude or anything, but I haven't seen you before and quite frankly you don't fit so that must mean you're new to town which only means one thing, you're passing through. Which makes me even luckier that you happened to stop at just the right moment." She was quick to down her second shot before she grumbled a little. She pulled herself up onto the counter and leaned over, reaching into the shelves for bigger glasses for the both of them, "I almost… there we go!" She grabbed the glass and pulled back, plopping onto her seat. "Jackpot," she sang, pouring heavier amounts of the whisky into the glasses. Once full enough for her pleasure, she picked up the glass, but her hand began to tremble and she let the glass go, letting it fall an inch back down to the wood of the bar. "Damnit," she grumbled, fighting back the urge to cry as she bit on her tongue, her eyebrows furrowing together as she set her eyes on her hands trying to tell them to settle down. When they didn't, she shoved them between her thighs and locked them in place. "Sorry, generally that only happens when I'm nervous," she looked up at him with innocent, worried eyes. "I wonder how bad the bruising will be… Oh well, I can always blame it on being a klutz." She sighed, "I'm acting weird, this really isn't the kind of first impression I'd want to make for a guy like you… well what I mean is you are," she made a motion with her hands, looking him up and down as if that told him exactly what he was, "and I'm, well… not. And now I'm talking really fast and making absolutely no sense, but I mean what kind of conversation can we have with that in the back of our minds? That isn't to say that we can't talk, I just mean, that… um, I'm making a big fool out of myself right now, aren't I? I should probably shut up, but I feel really… dirty like there are insects crawling underneath my skin where he touched me and I just… This probably isn't what you had in mind when you stopped her. Sorry, I'll just take another gulp…" Jolene grabbed onto the glass with both hands and brought it to her lips and took half of the glass of whiskey down her trap until she started to feel it got to her head. She hadn't eaten since lunch so her stomach was pleasantly empty and right now, more than anything, she wanted to feel like Jello. "So where are you from Damon Salvatore?" She questioned, setting her glass back down before shoving her shaky fingers back between her legs. She was making her fool out of herself, she knew she was, but she couldn't help it. It was all a mix of almost being sexually assaulted by four men and then meeting this stranger, a man who had just saved her life, and suddenly feeling this connection to him that had already solidified in her body that she couldn't explain.

DAMON'S POV -

Damon smiled a little. "Jolene Taylor, that's a very country name," he mused with light in his eyes. "I like it, it's charming," he told her. There was a tiny part of him that was disappointed for saving her. Because it meant that Elena was having long lasting affects to his personality, and even if they were for the better he resented it. He didn't want anything about him to remind him of her and what they had, but it was too late for that. It's like she was in his bloodstream now, whirring through his veins like some kind of drug, and he knew he saved the girl because he wouldn't have been able to stand there and watch the men have their way with her. However over a couple of years ago that's what he would've done. Hell, he may have joined on the fun with them; maybe not the physical aspect, but he would've killed them all and then enjoyed feeding on the girl. Things were different now, and he couldn't turn it off. It was like his switch was broken, but he had a weird draw to the young woman in front of him and it was making him okay with this new side to him. He was getting a new beginning like he wanted, even if he didn't plan on staying there he was getting good practice. He felt her body brush against his as she hopped off the counter, and he watched her intently as she brushed her long raven locks over one shoulder as she drank from the sink. She was stunning now that he had seen her in the light instead of the darkness of the alley. Damon had tunnel vision before, all he could see was Katherine or Elena, but now he was being subjected to other beauties and he was responding to them.

In fact if he was honest with himself, Jolene was more gorgeous than his Petrova girls were and he was completely taken with her. He smirked a little, "Well there's not many Damon's around that's for sure. Kind of an older name," he shrugged a little as she turned around to face him. His crystal gaze flickered down to her hand as he reached out and grabbed it, his fingers enclosing around her palm as he laughed under his breath. "Something like that, I guess. I just didn't want them to take advantage of you. It's hard to come back from something like that," he reasoned, watching as she drew closer to him. He tensed slightly, his eyes staying open as he felt the warmth of her plush lips melt into his cheek. "You're a kind woman, Jo," Damon told her, as he followed her out of the bathroom, thanking her for holding the door with him. He followed her to the bar, as his eyes shifted to the man behind the counter who was obviously known as Frank. "Nice to meet you," he said with a curt nod before he started shaking his head. "Really, it was nothing. Anyone would've done the same thing," Damon exclaimed, though he knew that wasn't true. No one would've been able to come up against those men, at least not one man-but he wasn't a man at all. He watched Jolene, she was so comfortable in her skin and in this town. She exuded a confidence that he found sexy, in some ways she reminded him of Sage, except she was clearly much more gentle at heart. He grinned as she patted the barstool. This being somebody different thing was very entertaining to him. Back home people would've walked the other way from him because they knew what he was capable of.

But Jo automatically was showing him some trust because of one good deed. It was funny how the world worked, and he knew he was using it to his advantage. He didn't want to be the same man anymore, but he didn't think he would suddenly become the 'good guy' or the 'Stefan.' Needless to say if his brother was here Jolene probably would've been going after him, and his nasty side would've been at all time high because he always became defensive asshole-ish around his baby brother. "Thank you Jo," he flashed her a bright smile, his cerulean gaze glittering in the dim lighting as she ordered them some decent whiskey. "My kind of girl," he hummed in delight with a mischievous raise of his brow. He loved a woman who could drink the hard stuff and hold their liquor. Elena was never that girl. Stop fucking thinking about them, he thought bitterly to himself, picking up the shot glass before he gave her a little tip of his head before he slammed the smooth fiery liquid. It scorched his throat, but he was use to that feeling and he lived for it. A laugh escaped him as he nodded. "Yeah thank God for alcohol indeed, it's this man's best friend," he exclaimed, all too happy when she refilled his shot. He drank it down as she began to talk before resting it back on the shiny wood. "That obvious, eh?" He mused. "That would be correct, I'm just passing through. No idea where I'm going though. I just got in my care four days ago, decided I was done with the bullshit, and convinced myself I deserved something more. And here I am, in...whatever hell town this is because I've already forgotten the name," he chortled, shrugging his shoulders.

"I ran out of gas and had to stop, and a drink sounded like a good idea. I'm glad I was able to help you," he admitted. She leaned over the bar then, in search of other glasses. He straightened up the moment he saw the larger size. "Yes, good thinking!" Damon stated, tapping his finger to the side of his head as she poured them each a hefty amount. He watched as her hand began to tremble, the glass landing with a loud 'clink' as the liquid sloshed around in the base of the glass. He watched her get frustrated and shove her hand between her legs. He reached out, gently touching her arm as he offered her the warmest smile he could muster. "You need to take it easy, you just had a pretty bad situation unfold against you. You're bound to be shaky, and you don't have to be ashamed of that fact. I understand, believe me. Give your body a little break," he reasoned softly before he moved his hand. "Klutzy? You don't strike me as that type of girl," he commented, knowing that probably sounded stupid because it wasn't as though he knew her. However, after being alive for over hundred and fifty plus years one got really good at reading people from one look. It became his gift, and Jolene seemed like a really strong woman to him with a soft nature which spoke to him louder than her strength, ironically. He smiled at her, completely amused by her little rant as she went on and on, pointing to him as though that was suppose to somehow spell out what she was trying to get him to see.

He was use to being fawned over because he irresistible good looks and piercing blue eyes, and as a predator people were naturally drawn to him because they didn't know any better. It was built into his skin, his smell, and his looks. It worked to his advantage in more ways than one, and he was a cocky son of a bitch who knew he was like the flame to a moth with it came to women. Damon's knowing grin quickly faded when she said she wasn't. Was this girl blind? He was actually very taken with her beauty, and that was unusual for him because he was so use to being the better looking one, but he would gladly step down from that title in her presence. "What?" Damon said, a rumble of a chuckle leaving his lips as he shook his head, downing a large gulp of whiskey. He shook his head again. "Nevermind any of that, there's time for introductions later," he said, hopping off the barstool as he grasped her hand that was still buried between her legs. "Come on, you say you can only fill insects crawling under your skin, right? Well lets get something else touching you instead and we'll pretend that it didn't happen to you. We've just met, I think you're gorgeous and I'd like a dance Jolene," he smiled brightly, pulling her toward him as he led her out to the middle of the bar. There was no dance floor, but he was creating one in the middle of the open floor next to pool table. With gentle hands he pulled her perfect body to his, and he loved that his hands fell on real curves. His intense gaze met hers as he let his hand move up and down her arm slowly, causing her to focus on the movement before he grasped her hand and began twirling her around slowly-which hardly matched the beat of the music.

"I'm from Virginia," he answered, offering her his signature crooked smirk. "What about you? Have you lived here your whole life?" He danced with her a little, keeping her close in hopes that her skin would stop crawling and all she would feel but the warmth and distraction of his. Then he returned with her to the bar and drank with her until the wee hours of the morning; until she was completely shit faced and he was merely buzzed even though he had put down more than she had by far. By the end she was so out of it she could barely talk, so he took her with him; finding a room at the Circle Eight motel before he let her crash on the bed while he took the chair because that's all he had. When morning crept in he was up, because he knew he had to get on the road, but he was also in no rush to leave either. He used the cheap coffee pot in the room to make her a cup of coffee, ordering up a packed of tylenol for to take along with it. Then he set it on the night stand and slowly placed his hand on her side as he gave her a gentle nudge. "Hey Jo, rise in shine babe. You should probably have a cup of black and swallow these down if you want to survive the day," he said with a grin as her eyes fluttered open. From there he returned to his chair in the corner of the room as he looked at her. "You were a little out of it last night; I couldn't even get an address from you. So," he began, "I felt better bringing you here where I at least knew you would be safe in my care. I hope you don't mind, I know I'm pretty much a stranger."