Chapter 3
Francie's Restaurant, Bar
"Hello, Vaughn," Sydney repeated as he turned around to face her, this time lowering her voice an octave.
"Hi," He began, a cough in his throat, "hi, we're not supposed to meet like this, publicly, in public."
"Hello, Sydney," Eric said, "Hello, hello, Sydney. Mike, look its Sydney," the words fell off his intoxicated lips.
"Who are they?" Francie asked Sydney with an amused look, before mouthing to her, "Mike, as in Michael?"
"Francie, this is Michael and Eric, we all work together at the bank," she said, the first names tasting so weird on Sydney's tongue. She looked away from Francie and Weiss, back to Vaughn. "What are you doing here, besides the obvious," she asked, eyeing the empty bottles and mugs in front of them.
"We're getting very, very drunk. What does it look like you to you Age-." Sydney clamped her hand over Weiss's mouth. "Be quiet," she warned. "I'm going to call you two a cab."
"We don't want to leave. I," Weiss grinned, "want more beer, and Vaughn, well he wants you."
"Shut up," Vaughn said.
"Just tell her Mike," Weiss responded, picking up another beer, "you heard what she said to," he looked at Francie, "to you."
"Stop talking, Eric." Vaughn said, this time his voice was almost to the level of shouting. "I swear, if you don't stop talking I'll," Vaughn was trying to get up off the stool, but Sydney put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped moving. She spoke to Francie, "Call Eric a cab, please. I'll escort Michael here, home." She said as professionally as she could, knowing full well this could get dangerous if the wrong people had been watching.
Sydney gave her roommate a sympathetic glance, "He's," referring to Weiss and playing off of Francie's unappreciative glare, "a sweetheart, really." Sydney grabbed Vaughn's arm and directed him back through the restaurant. "I'll be home late," she said over her shoulder.
Francie's Restaurant, Storage Room
"What are we doing in here?" Vaughn asked Sydney, finding himself seated on top of a crate in a tiny room. The door was open to provide air circulation, but otherwise they were completely alone.
"Do you really want to have this talk in front of an incredibly drunk Weiss and my best friend?" Sydney asked.
"Will's here?" Vaughn responded, with enough jealousy creeping into his voice for Sydney to notice.
"Francie, remember, not Will," Sydney sighed, "Vaughn, I've never seen you like this."
"You weren't supposed to see me like this."
"I'm going to kick myself for having this conversation with you," she paused, "so intoxicated," she continued, "but I have to know."
"Know what Syd?"
"What would have happened if Kane's men hadn't stopped us," she asked, the next phrase spoken more quietly, "if we had gone up to the hotel room in France?"
"I would have kissed you," Vaughn said, leaning off the crate a little closer to her, "over and over," he smiled, "and never let you go."
"Oh," Sydney closed her eyes, "God." She reopened them to find Vaughn almost slumped completely over. She lifted him off the crate, draping his arm carefully around her shoulders. "Time to get you home," she looked at his sleeping face, "Michael."
Francie's Restaurant, Bar
"Hello, Vaughn," Sydney repeated as he turned around to face her, this time lowering her voice an octave.
"Hi," He began, a cough in his throat, "hi, we're not supposed to meet like this, publicly, in public."
"Hello, Sydney," Eric said, "Hello, hello, Sydney. Mike, look its Sydney," the words fell off his intoxicated lips.
"Who are they?" Francie asked Sydney with an amused look, before mouthing to her, "Mike, as in Michael?"
"Francie, this is Michael and Eric, we all work together at the bank," she said, the first names tasting so weird on Sydney's tongue. She looked away from Francie and Weiss, back to Vaughn. "What are you doing here, besides the obvious," she asked, eyeing the empty bottles and mugs in front of them.
"We're getting very, very drunk. What does it look like you to you Age-." Sydney clamped her hand over Weiss's mouth. "Be quiet," she warned. "I'm going to call you two a cab."
"We don't want to leave. I," Weiss grinned, "want more beer, and Vaughn, well he wants you."
"Shut up," Vaughn said.
"Just tell her Mike," Weiss responded, picking up another beer, "you heard what she said to," he looked at Francie, "to you."
"Stop talking, Eric." Vaughn said, this time his voice was almost to the level of shouting. "I swear, if you don't stop talking I'll," Vaughn was trying to get up off the stool, but Sydney put a hand on his shoulder. He stopped moving. She spoke to Francie, "Call Eric a cab, please. I'll escort Michael here, home." She said as professionally as she could, knowing full well this could get dangerous if the wrong people had been watching.
Sydney gave her roommate a sympathetic glance, "He's," referring to Weiss and playing off of Francie's unappreciative glare, "a sweetheart, really." Sydney grabbed Vaughn's arm and directed him back through the restaurant. "I'll be home late," she said over her shoulder.
Francie's Restaurant, Storage Room
"What are we doing in here?" Vaughn asked Sydney, finding himself seated on top of a crate in a tiny room. The door was open to provide air circulation, but otherwise they were completely alone.
"Do you really want to have this talk in front of an incredibly drunk Weiss and my best friend?" Sydney asked.
"Will's here?" Vaughn responded, with enough jealousy creeping into his voice for Sydney to notice.
"Francie, remember, not Will," Sydney sighed, "Vaughn, I've never seen you like this."
"You weren't supposed to see me like this."
"I'm going to kick myself for having this conversation with you," she paused, "so intoxicated," she continued, "but I have to know."
"Know what Syd?"
"What would have happened if Kane's men hadn't stopped us," she asked, the next phrase spoken more quietly, "if we had gone up to the hotel room in France?"
"I would have kissed you," Vaughn said, leaning off the crate a little closer to her, "over and over," he smiled, "and never let you go."
"Oh," Sydney closed her eyes, "God." She reopened them to find Vaughn almost slumped completely over. She lifted him off the crate, draping his arm carefully around her shoulders. "Time to get you home," she looked at his sleeping face, "Michael."