Dropping Kirby off with a short, and definitely not sweet pep talk, Fallon headed towards her own apartment in uncomfortable silence. She had expected her drinks with the other woman to last a little longer than they had, and now that she was completely alone again, she felt fidgety and restless. She didn't want to go home and be alone yet, but it was too strange of an hour to try to make any last minute plans with Monica. Remembering that the unfinished movie that she'd left paused on her TV was waiting for her perked her up a little - she could have a bit of a distraction before crawling off into bed and getting an early night's sleep to prepare for a productive work-free day to follow.

She mentally inventoried what was left in her wine fridge, and tried to decide what she'd do for dinner while she drove. Being alone had more pros than cons, she reminded herself, beginning to feel better already.

The cool air of her apartment welcomed her with open arms, and as she kicked off her heels and made her way up to her bedroom to change into something more comfortable for her movie night, Fallon double checked her emails and texts to make sure she could afford to unplug and take a few hours for herself.

Fixing a glass of wine and bringing the bottle with her, Fallon got comfortable on her couch in her pajamas and turned the movie back on, curling up cozily and settling in. It felt strange, at first, to see Kirby on-screen having just left her at the bar, but she grew used to it; her brain quickly separating movie-Kirby from real-Kirby.

On the screen across from her, Kirby, red-faced and hair immaculately tousled, delivered some important line of plot-defining dialogue that Fallon almost missed, pausing the movie before deciding to backtrack and rewatch the last few minutes from before she'd left her place earlier to refresh her memory. As she rewound, she was instantly reminded of the scene that she'd been working hard to forget, wincing a little and deciding that perhaps now that she wasn't going to be blindsided by it, she could watch it properly.

Bracing herself, she hit play .

The sounds of Kirby's panting and moaning mixed in with the movie's score immediately filled her living room, but Fallon resisted the urge to skip the part. She'd walked in on clients bare-naked and sprawled out, coked out, on bathroom floors before. This was just a movie, and there was no reason for it to set off her panic reflex any more than anything else in her career had.

She insisted to herself that she was being a professional by watching it so much more intensely this time around, but as the scene went on, and then passed, she found herself almost reaching for the remote to rewind it again. It wasn't about Kirby, and she could recognize that, but it reminded her that it had been a while. The loneliness of the evening wasn't helping, either.

She thought about what Kirby had asked her earlier.

Don't you ever just… go out with people? Make friends, even?

Frowning to herself and pausing the movie again, Fallon reached for her phone, but before she could make any bad decisions for herself, it rang in her hands.

"Fallon Carrington," she answered.

"Michael Culhane." His voice was mocking, but gentle. It immediately made her smile in spite of herself. "I heard I missed you today."

"I heard you were off today." Fallon stretched out on the couch, reaching for her wine glass again.

"I went in to pick up my tip-out, and they told me some hot and scary little thing was snooping around, asking about me. I knew it had to be you."

Fallon laughed, narrowing her eyes even though she knew he couldn't see her.

"Must've been your other favourite customer."

"You know you're my one and only."

Fallon chewed her cuticle for a moment, humming into the receiver.

"I wanted to make it up to you," Michael added, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "I thought we could get a drink. Tonight."

Fallon genuinely considered, for a moment, then sighed.

"I'm already at home and settled in."

"Another time, then." Michael's voice was light - disappointed, but optimistic.

"Wait," Fallon stopped him before he could hang up. "I'm just… watching a movie. Maybe you could come over here."

"Oh, yeah, so we could watch it together?" he asked knowingly.

"Something like that." Fallon sat up and threw back the last few sips of her wine, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "Are you nearby?"

"I can be there soon. I'll call you when I'm downstairs."

With that, he hung up, and left Fallon to a moment of silent contemplation before she got up and scrambled to tidy the living room.

One of the biggest downsides to inviting anyone - men, women, coworkers, friends, whatever - into her apartment, was inevitably being at their mercy of deciding when to take the hint and leave.

Stretching out as slowly and quietly as possible, Fallon glanced at the man sleeping next to her, and then slid out of the bed as sneakily as she could. She usually reserved her shower routine for after her space had been vacated, but today it was a tool to have a few moments alone before she had to kick Michael out.

It was too early for her to be awake on a day off. She wasn't usually one for sleeping in, but her plans had been to watch a movie and polish off a bottle of wine the night before. Now, though, instead of reading the paper in bed and enjoying her coffee slowly, she was awake and rushing around just before 6 o' clock, just like any other day of the week.

Michael was awake by the time she left the shower, and had already made them each a cup of coffee.

"Good morning." His eyes raked over her and she clutched her towel a little tighter to herself, unable to keep the hint of a smile from crossing her face.

"Good morning to you too, you lose your shirt?" She nodded at him, reaching out with one hand to take the mug from him.

Michael glanced down at himself and shrugged as he stepped closer to her.

"Must have. Maybe I could borrow your towel in the meantime." With one arm he reached out and wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her a little closer and working his fingers into the opening of it slowly.

Fallon chuckled, setting her mug down on the closest counter and catching his hand with her own, pushing it away softly.

"Actually," she started, slowly, "you'd better go look for it. I have to be at the office soon."

"That's a shame," Michael hummed, stepping back and sipping his coffee. "I don't want to make you late, though."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, wandering up the stairs to the bedroom again and leaving her alone with her thoughts once more.

She didn't have any regrets, but inviting him to her own place was a mistake she usually didn't make. It had been out of loneliness, and boredom, and any other day she would have been smart enough to go out with him and then follow him home instead. She liked his place, actually. His bed was comfortable and his kitchen always smelled great, and it was a few degrees too cold for her to be tempted to linger around in the mornings.

Fallon waited until he was dressed and on his way out her door before getting ready herself. It was almost tempting to get back into bed, but she had already showered and finished an espresso - she knew her body was ready to start the day, even if her mind wasn't.

With her makeup on and her hair done, and nowhere to be, she got comfortable on her couch and switched on the television, remembering that she had once again failed to actually finish watching Splintered Men .

"Third time's the charm," she thought out loud to herself, starting it over and sitting back against the cushions. With no loneliness, wine, or even upcoming meetings to distract her this time, Fallon watched everything, taking in more detail than the previous two attempts at watching, and found herself completely sucked in.

Kirby had completely won her over.

It was a wonder she hadn't done anything noteworthy before, or even since - though Fallon could guess that the latter had to do with how exhausted she must have been from this shoot. Mentally, she chided herself for being on the other woman's case so much. Her complaints about having to keep up with early call-times even though she was wrapped made a little more sense, now, given how intense the movie was even just for her, as a viewer.

She watched the entire movie from beginning to end without a single pause, only getting up once it ended to order food, then went back to rewatch parts that she'd liked. She realized, when she rewatched the sex scene (and she had a perfectly good excuse, she thought she'd seen a hint of a tattoo and needed a better look), that she was going overboard. No one in the Academy would even be watching as intently as she had been.

When her food arrived, she watched the news instead, and a shaky video of Alice Alby walking into The Burrow the night before reminded Fallon about the date. Scrolling her phone and creeping through various social media feeds, she kept an eye out for any sign of anything going wrong - any photos of the two of them, any unfortunate incidents in the bar, or elsewhere - but found nothing. Kirby had kept up her end of the deal.

'I keep all of my promises.' She immediately heard Kirby's voice in her mind - a line from the movie she'd just obsessively picked apart over multiple watches - and shook her head quickly. Nope.

Closing out the stalker-like Twitter feed that she'd been poring over, she typed Kirby's name into the search bar and, instead of reading the updates, glanced around as if there were someone else in her apartment to see her, then clicked on her actual profile.

The social media sweepers had done an impeccable job. The page still seemed authentic, at least with what Fallon knew about Kirby so far, but it was clean, and professional. Her header image was the title of the movie - cropped from the poster, clearly - and her icon had been changed from a blurry filtered selfie to a professional photo; Fallon recognized it from Honeyblog .

Still, Kirby was there on the page. It was littered with stupid jokes; alcohol-free photos of her and her friends at dinner; a few endorsements from blogs that had already interviewed her - it was perfect.

Closing the feed altogether, she began to clean up the containers from her food and tried to find something to do with the rest of her day. She found herself scrolling through her phone as a fidgeting reflex, and hadn't even realized that she'd pulled up Kirby in her texts until her thumb was hovering over the send button.

'How was your date?'

She waited a few moments, genuinely expecting an instant reply, at first before telling herself that she had to have been truly dying of boredom to be bothering a client just for someone to talk to. Pulling up Monica's name, instead, she began to type a new message.

'What are you doing tonight? Don't answer that. Manicures and wine?'

Monica answered her quickly, and Fallon took it as a sign that she should have texted her first.

[1:01PM] Monica: Manicures and wine sounds good. I think I saw your girl with Jeff when I was on my way out.

Fallon frowned at the screen, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. Her mind jumped to the worst possible scenario, that she was being poached, but she tried to keep herself calm as she replied to Monica.

'When was this?'

[1:03PM] Monica: about an hour ago?

Fuming instantly, Fallon texted Kirby again.

'Where are you? Need to talk to you.'

She followed up by immediately phoning Jeff, pacing her kitchen angrily as the phone rang. She knew he always had his phone in his hand, and knowing that he was letting it ring just to make her wait only made her more irritated.

"Jeff Colby."

"What the hell are you doing? Is Kirby with you?"

"No," Fallon could hear the smirk in his voice, and had to picture herself strangling him to keep from slamming her phone down. "I just took her home."

"She's not answering her phone."

"What are you, her mother?" He laughed. "I had to take her to buy a new one, she lost hers last night. I'm sure she'll get back to you as soon as she unboxes it. Besides, she said that she didn't have anything going on today."

"Oh my god," Fallon whined. "I give her one day off and you think you can just swoop in and try to pull her out from under me?"

"Fallon, that's not what's happening. She came in looking for you, and I offered to give her a ride."

"Oh, I bet you did," She hissed, tightening her grip on her phone. "Focus on your own work, okay?"

"I was just trying to help." He sounded genuinely annoyed now, so she reined it in and clenched her jaw.

"I don't want your help. If I did, I'd ask for it. Got it?"

"Whatever, Fallon," He sighed, hanging up before she had the chance to do so first.

Her screen refreshed as the call ended and alerted her of her two new text messages.

[1:10PM] Kirby Anders: everything ok?

[1:10PM] Kirby Anders: i just got home

Feeling a little tug of guilt in her chest for having probably scared the shit out of the other woman for no reason, she typed back a quick response.

'Everything's fine. False alarm.'

She paused, considering adding more to it - something about Jeff, maybe, but she knew it would only read as unprofessional, and she didn't need to strain their relationship any more than she already had. If Kirby was off with Jeff Colby instead of her, she'd win her back properly . She sent the message, assured Monica that she'd make the appointment, and then set her phone down and left it on the counter to cool herself off for a little before making anymore rash text-based decisions.

She distracted herself with paperwork and other projects she'd brought home from the office for a couple of hours, but even without her phone, she found herself procrastinating on her computer instead. She reorganized her calendar, changing the color-code she had set up months earlier, and called back every confirmation that she could have asked one of the interns to do for her instead.

Around 3:30, it was too early to eat - or start drinking - so she wandered back into her living room and collapsed onto the couch. Her eyes were too tired from staring at her screen for hours to put anything on the TV, but the DVD case taunted her from the coffee table. Swiping it up, Fallon stood up and replaced the disc back into its case, hoping that the action would solidify in her mind that she was done watching it over and over.

Her phone chirped at her from the kitchen island, and she made her way back over to it, deciding her two hour time-out had been enough.

[3:31PM] Kirby Anders: wtf is this

Inserted with the message was a photo of a large box, and Fallon zoomed in to squint at it before realizing.

'Probably the trailer. Did your manager ask for a copy? Do not open it.'

Kirby answered her almost instantly.

[3:31PM] Kirby Anders: jfc, i thought it was a bomb or severed horse head or smth.

Fallon snorted, but quickly wiped the smile from her face as if the other woman could see her, and she didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

'This seems like a conversation for your manager. Which again, I am not.'

The typing bubble from Kirby's end appeared and vanished once or twice before her phone buzzed again.

[3:33PM] Kirby Anders: i figured you'd probably have more experience with people sending creepy shit to you for revenge.

Fallon rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the smirk off of her face. Leaning against her counter, she typed back quickly: 'You think so highly of me. What possessed you to hire me, again?

[3:33PM] Kirby Anders: that's a conversation for my manager.

Fallon found herself grinning to herself as she set her phone down, and tried as hard as she could to will her face to return to neutral. Remembering her plans with Monica, she scooped the phone up again and exited her texts to call and reserve their appointment, making her way back upstairs to get ready.

"Did you sort everything out with Jeff?" Monica didn't even say 'hello' as the receptionist led her over to where Fallon was sitting.

Fallon glanced up from where she was soaking her hands at the table, shrugging a little.

"Sort of. Misunderstanding, I think."

"What kind of misunderstanding?" Monica shrugged her coat off and got comfortable, holding her bottle of nail polish out to the esthetician and turning to face Fallon.

"I don't really want to talk about work," Fallon dismissed gently, giving her a quick smile to reassure her friend that she was simply tired, not upset.

"Okay, that's fair. What did you get up to last night? I half-expected you to call; I figured you'd be bored."

The evening before came flooding back to her and she frowned.

"I… watched a movie. For work. And then… had a drink with Michael."

"A drink," Monica repeated, fixing her with a knowing look.

Fallon turned away, pulling her hands out of the soak and resting them on the towel as the bowl was taken away. She fidgeted with her fingers for a moment, avoiding looking up.

"Yeah, at mine."

"How much longer are you planning on stringing him along?"

Fallon regretted taking work off the table as a conversation topic. Both of their estheticians got to work, and Fallon distracted herself by watching the process, letting her eyes practically glaze over before she answered Monica.

"I'm not stringing him along. We're both adults, we know what we're doing. Besides, if he was so hurt, he could say something about it."

"Are you kidding? You practically have date-repellent pheromones."

Fallon gave her a genuinely offended look, but she backtracked.

"That isn't what I mean. I'm just saying, if he's not asking you out, it's because he's smart enough to know that you don't really want him to. Not because he's not interested." Monica levelled her gaze on her. "You know you're terrifying. You do it on purpose."

Fallon sighed. She wasn't wrong.

"I'm having fun. He's nice to me and really… really attractive, and we get along. It's nice not having so many expectations."

"I think hot and nice are setting the bar a little low," Monica started, "but fine. I won't push it."

"Thank you."

The two of them fell into silence for a few moments, the only sounds around them being the forever trickling of water in a zen fountain somewhere in the spa, and the soft harp music playing over the radio in every room.

"What're we watching tonight?" Monica finally broke the tension. "Please tell me you have something good from that Oscar locker."

Fallon chuckled, glancing over at her.

"I think I have a few." She thought about her copy of Splintered Men that was still on her table at home, and immediately felt on edge. The idea of showing it to Monica made her skin crawl - she could already hear the teasing lecture about Kirby - so she shoved it from her mind. She did have other options; she'd make them the priority.

They made it through their manicures without any more uncomfortable topics arising, and after a couple glasses of complimentary champagne, a trip to the wine store, and a short walk back to Fallon's apartment, they were both giggly and feeling entirely stress-free. Thoughts of Jeff, Kirby, and even her father's wedding popped up in Fallon's head and vanished without a moment of anxiety.

It might have been the wine - she and Monica did quickly polish off two entire bottles over the course of a couple of movies - but either way, Fallon felt like she could breathe for the first time in a while.

For a moment.

"What's this one?" Monica dug through the movies and held up the case for Splintered Men , and Fallon nearly dove off of the couch to tackle her.

"Whoa." She held the case back and away from Fallon's reach, blinking in confusion. "Oh, shit, this is Kirby's movie. We should watch it."

"No," Fallon whined, swiping it from her when she left it undefended for a moment. "I've had to watch it like 30 times already because of work."

"Because of work," Monica repeated, taking the case back just as quickly and flipping it over to read the back.

"Yes, because of work!" Fallon sat back, defeated, watching as Monica scanned the information curiously.

"Since when do you have to watch a movie thirty times for work?"

"Since my client is an insane person and I have to figure out a marketable balance between that," she gestured at the case, "And her."

Monica seemed to buy that. It sounded true, when Fallon heard herself saying it, but she knew deep down that it wasn't. Admitting she just loved the movie shouldn't have been hard, but for whatever reason, she felt embarrassed. She forced herself not to dwell on the feeling, getting up from the floor and climbing back onto the couch.

"The trailer is out tomorrow, anyway. You can decide then if you even want to watch it," Fallon compromised, but Monica had already put the movie back and seemed to be over the idea in general.

"That bad, huh?"

"No, it's good. Like I said, I sort of… overdid it."

She knew that she'd be busted as soon as the movie came out, if Monica still remembered this conversation, by then. For now, though, she had gotten away with it, and the two of them scrolled through the movies on demand for awhile instead.

Having Monica in her apartment was a starkly different feeling from having Michael over, and as she wrapped her friend up in a fur throw blanket when she fell asleep, and shut off the lights to go to her own bed, Fallon felt perfectly comfortable. In fact, the distraction of knowing that someone else was in her place helped keep her mind off of all of the confusing thoughts from the day she'd just had.

That is, of course, until she fell asleep.