As the former co-workers entered their hotel room, Lilah's expression shifted to one of disgust. She eyed the ratty, faded wallpaper, and the carpet that had been stained by God only knew what. The ancient furniture looked like it would topple over if one were to blow on it. "Huh" she remarked. "Charming."
Lindsey rolled his eyes. True, it wasn't exactly a five-star hotel, but he'd seen worse. Namely, his own home as a kid. Six kids in a one bedroom slum tended to give you a different perspective on things. Of course, Lilah was a creature of luxury. She probably didn't have a clue how lucky she was to at least have a roof over her head. More likely than not, she'd been one of those kids whose mommy and daddy had paid her way through school. Sighing, he shook his head and sank into one of the two wooden chairs that sat in the room. An ominous creak rose up from it but, surprisingly, it held together.
"Lilah, we really don't have a choice", he began. "It's either hide out in this dump, or get shot. I don't know about you, but I'm not entirely eager to be pushing up daisies just yet."
"Fine. But I'm taking the bed."
"Right. And I'm supposed to sleep in the bathtub I suppose?"
"If you feel so inclined. Of course, the floor is an option too."
"How about you take the floor and I'll take the bed."
She frowned at him. "I thought you were one of the white hats now. Aren't they supposed to be all chivalrous?"
"Only toward ladies, and I don't see any of those around."
"How droll." She removed her high heeled shoes and lined them neatly by the door. "Alright, fine. How about we take shifts? We should be watching out for those guys anyway. Then we can both use the bed." Eyeing said piece, she wondered if that would really be a privilege. The comforter looked well-worn, even threadbare in some places, and the headboard was chipped.
Nodding in agreement, Lindsey picked up a piece of paper that had lain on top of the tiny table. He scanned it, discovering that it was a room service menu. Room service? Here? On the back side of the menu there was a drink list. Now there was an idea. If he was going to be stuck in a room with Lilah, he might as well try to dull the sensation of it a little.
Meanwhile, the object of that thought was exploring the drawers of the small armoire that sat by the bed. She tugged on the first one but it remained tightly closed, having long ago warped beyond repair. With a shrug she opened the second. Inside were a bible and a deck of cards. She picked up the cards and set them on the bed. The bible she left where it lay. She hadn't read one of them in a long time, and this was not the night that she intended to start. It wasn't that she didn't believe, exactly. It was just that allowing herself to delve into morality just made her job more difficult. When you didn't question your actions, you were better able to carry them out. There were times that the brunette felt twinges of doubt over an assignment, but she did her best to firmly reign in those twinges. It was her or the world, and she preferred to look after herself first.
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A pair of jacks stared up at him from his hand. They were slightly hard to focus on, but that was probably just because of the alcohol. Not that he'd had all that much. Lindsey didn't enjoy being overly drunk, and mostly saved such a state for bigger things, like unrequited love for blonde vampiresses who barely realized he was alive. The young lawyer glanced across the small table at the other player. Lilah certainly had a good game face, he had to give her that. Most people would have been completely fooled by her demeanor. He, however, was not. Smiling inwardly, he set his cards down, enjoying her stifled sigh of frustration.
"How did you know I was bluffing?" she demanded.
Shrugging, he replied "You're not as mysterious as you like to think. I can tell when you're lying."
"What are you talking about? I'm an excellent liar."
"No you're not."
This was beginning to be less fun, she decided. They had begun the impromptu poker game about an hour ago, out of sheer boredom, and she'd been continually losing to him. Lilah couldn't quite grasp why that should be so, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she was slightly drunk. Maybe that was the problem.
"I," she began, rousing up all the dignity she could muster "make my living out of lies. For the most part, it works out for me. You're just lucky tonight is all."
Tilting his head slightly to the side, he looked at her for a moment. "No... I've always been able to read you."
"You think so? I'd be willing to make a bet with you that you don't know me nearly as well as you think that you do."
"I know that you're a spoiled snob."
"You think so hm?"
He nodded. "With an attitude like yours, I'd guess that you've always gotten whatever it was that you wanted."
Smirking, she stretched her long legs a little under the table. "You'd be wrong. I didn't actually get much of anything that I wanted until I started working for the firm. See? You're not so smart after all."
Lilah's former office rival studied her for a moment. "I'll admit, that's kind of a surprise. You'd think that someone who's as much of a bitch as you are would be that way because they were someone's little rich brat."
"Yeah, right." She shook her head. "My mother was a stripper and my step-father was an unemployed, alcoholic pedophile. And I prefer to think of myself as extremely assertive."
The blunt statement had a surprisingly strong impact on him. Over the past few hours he'd been stuck with her. For the most part, he'd been able to regard her as the nuisance that she was. However, this revelation of her past was forcing him, if even for a moment, to think of her as a complete person with a complete history. The thought made him slightly uncomfortable. It was really much easier to deal with people as just another part of his life. When you delved into their motivations and their pasts, a link was forged. You were forced to acknowledge the fact that they shared with you the human condition. They were connected to you whether you wanted them to be or not. When you started viewing someone as a person, you could no longer interact indiscriminately with them. You couldn't look at them as something flat and two dimensional. In one way or another, emotions would end up attaching themselves to your view of them. Before, he had been able to view her as just a symbol of his previous life. Now, he'd have to feel something. Perhaps intense dislike, perhaps a kind of uneasy fellowship. This was going to be very tiring.
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A blue Chrysler, old and misused, drove slowly along the streets of the sleeping town. Its occupants, sharp-eyed, surveyed the area. It would only be a matter of time until they found their prey. They always did. There would be no mercy. There never was. The dreary rain continued to pour down, as though the night itself had sunk into a depressed monotony. With one hand on the wheel, the driver thought about the woman they would kill. Was she afraid? Would she scream and run, or would she go down fighting? He hoped for the second. There was always a greater satisfaction when the mission had been a challenge.
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"Alright McDonald. Now you know my great and tragic story. So let's hear yours." The brunette stared at him from across the table, her eyes boring into him with their unnerving confident gaze.
"There's not much of it to tell." he leaned back a bit in the decrepit piece of furniture that was trying to pass itself off as a chair. "Small house, big family and the classic evil landlord who decided to foreclose."
"You have brothers and sisters? Huh. More Lindseys running around. Now that's an unpleasant thought. Me, I was an only child. So what about your parents? I'm assuming you had some of those."
"Yeah, I did. My mother died after she had my youngest sister."
"And let me guess. Dad got his kicks out of beating on the kids?"
After a pause, he lifted his gaze to hers. "No. He wasn't actually around all that much. He had two jobs."
"Well." She took a sip of her drink. "That's better than a stepfather who has the time to go out and get drunk every night before..." she looked as though she was about to say more but immediately checked herself, quickly closing her mouth. Cursing herself in her head, she turned her gaze to the window pane.
A heaviness hung in the air, wrapping itself around the pair. Lindsey could feel it clinging to him like some kind of filmy spider's web. Whether he'd wanted to or not, he was getting a sense of her life, and of her motivations. A part of him wanted to say that she was still the same evil bitch, and that no amount of history could excuse her actions. He hadn't forgiven himself for his own, so how could he forgive her? Of course, she hadn't asked for forgiveness. She likely didn't want it. However, another part of him, a part that had been more and more vocal since just before he'd left Wolfram and Hart, felt that it was only fair to offer it to her a chance at it all the same. Now, while her guard was down a little. After all, he wouldn't have started on his own admitably difficult path had he not been essentially smacked in the head by the idea that perhaps he ought to do so.
Looking at her, he spoke. "Evil isn't so great when you're on the receiving end, is it?"
Torn from her reminiscence, her head turned back toward him. "What?"
"Sometimes people take a lot of hits when they're young, and one day they just snap."
Images of blood and letter openers flashed in her head.
"They decide that they're never going to get stepped on again. Instead, they're going to get to stepping on others. It may not be what they'd prefer to do, but they do it anyway, because the alternative is too much to bear anymore." he continued.
Feeling as though her heart were being gripped and squeezed tightly within her chest, Lilah listened to him.
"The only problem is, you end up becoming the thing that you're trying to escape. You become the demons that you feared, and so you're more trapped than you ever were. Because you can't escape from yourself."
Suddenly, she rose to her feet, glaring at him. "Did I ask for an intervention? I don't need to hear any of this from you. I chose the path I'm on. I'm not some helpless damsel who needs rescuing."
A glint of amusement lit his eyes. "No-one would make the mistake of calling you helpless Lilah. At least, not twice."
Somewhat mollified, she relaxed a little. "I know that I'm evil. I admit, it wasn't what I'd planned, but it works for me. It gets me what I need."
"Does it?"
"Shut up. You're giving me a headache."
"That's the alcohol."
"No, I'm pretty sure it's you." She frowned. "I think I'm going to go to bed."
Lindsey was satisfied by her response. In effect, she was retreating. He'd managed to get under her skin. Of course, there was no way of telling if it would continue to eat at her or if she would simply find a way to smooth over the barbs. One of her talents was the ability to simply smooth over set-backs in her mind. She'd come to work the day after losing a case and act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Unless the case happened to involve a certain souled vampire. She would deny it, but he was certain that at one point Lilah had had a thing for Angel. Only people that she was interested in seemed to be able to really aggravate her.
The man was incredibly aggravating, she decided. Who did he think he was, trying to play the hero with her? She marched over to the tiny closet by the door, finding a few hangers inside. Plucking two of them off of the bar and setting them on the doorknob, she unbuttoned her blouse. She certainly wasn't going to sleep in the clothes she would have to wear tomorrow. Modesty wasn't one of her attributes, so she would hang them and Lindsey would be smart enough not to try staring at her. Maybe.
A second glance was definitely in order. Lindsey carefully looked in her direction, being careful not to alert her to his interest. Knowing Lilah, pain would likely descend swiftly on anyone caught with his eyes lingering where they ought not to. However, linger they did. The soft line of her back, and the finely shaped shoulder blades were surprisingly feminine and beautiful. The combination of her suits and her demeanor tended to force people to disregard those qualities in her, and focus on the ones she wanted to put forward instead, like her sharp mind, and her ruthlessness. Strange how it was here, in this dingy room in some God-forsaken motel off a strip of highway in Nowheresville, that she seemed to be more attractive than in her best designer clothes at a fancy Wolfram and Hart affair. His eyes continued on a natural course downward, taking in the curved hips, long legs and smooth skin. In the dim light she looked soft, and almost touchable.
Lilah climbed into the bed, and began to sink slowly into sleep, still stewing over his audacity. Gradually, her eyes closed. Almost inaudibly, she mumbled "Stupid jerk... making me..." here, a yawn hit her. Then, she continued "making me...delve..."
"Goodnight Lilah."
"Night."
