Sorry it took me so long to update! Writer's block is just the worst thing, but I'm recovering! Expect the next chapter soon, and a couple of long oneshots along with it. :) Also, since you're here and reading this, I feel like I should tell you about the Puckleberry Fanfiction Awards that is currently happening over on Livejournal. Take just a few moments to vote for your favorite authors and get in on the fun! Hurry though; nominations end on the 31st! (prfanficawards[DOT]livejournal[DOT]com)

Rachel heads over to the food table at lunch one day to find a pretty blonde girl filling a plate high with lettuce, two cherry tomatoes, and not much else. She looks about twenty-one, and she's wearing a strapless dress that barely covers her panties. It's cream, and Rachel can actually see the bright blue bra she's wearing through the material. The girl looks vaguely familiar (an extra, maybe), and so Rachel smiles politely at her as she grabs a tray and starts spooning pasta into a small bowl.

"Hello," She greets, offering a hand for the girl to shake, and sitting her bowl on an empty tray. "I'm Rachel Berry."

The blonde girl beams hugely at her, and grabs her hand with both of her own. "You're the star of this movie, ohmygod. Hi! That's so cool! I'm Katie."

Rachel laughs a little and breaks the handshake to pick up an apple and sit it on her tray. "I hope you don't mind me asking, Katie, but I haven't seen you around before. What do you-"

"Oh," She answers before Rachel can even finish her question, clapping her hands together giddily. "I don't work here. Puck brought me, can you believe it?"

Rachel raises her eyebrows. She doesn't mean to, it's just that no, she can't believe it. "You came here with Noah?"

"No, I came with Puck. Who's Noah?" Katie shakes her head with a smile, and Rachel opens her mouth to reply but quickly decides not to. In the time that she's been in LA -this is almost her eighth week filming - she hasn't ever seen Noah with a girl, although she's heard more than enough stories and read many articles on the subject. Producers aren't often chased by the paparazzi, but it seems that Noah is an exception to that rule, simply because he's attractive and dates a lot of famous girls. She reads about him almost every week in the tabloids, when she's getting her nails done. It's the first time however, that he's brought one of his dates to the set, though she relaxes a little when she realizes that their relationship can't be very serious if Katie doesn't even know Noah's name.

No, she doesn't know why she tensed in the first place, and she definitely does not want to question it. So instead, Rachel changes the subject.

"Have I seen you before?" Rachel asks cheerfully, adding a bottle of fruit juice to her tray. "You look so familiar!"

Katie beams. "I'm the girl in the new Gucci campaign! Also, I'm a dancer. I was in Lady Gaga's last video. And Katy Perry's. And you might have seen me in People with Puck, the night he took me to the Olive Garden."

Rachel can only nod her head before Katie starts talking again.

"I'm totally proud of myself. At first Puck only wanted sex – which is fantastic, I mean, how could it not be? - but I was all, 'No, if you want to keep getting all up on this, you gotta show me some respect' and I made him take me out for dinner, and I asked him to bring me to set today, because I wanted to see what he did. That's not like, creepy, right? I mean, this movie set is just so cool! And I totally think he's into me, y'know? I mean, I'm making him work for it. That's good, right?"

Rachel isn't sure what the feeling is that's coursing through her veins right now, but she certainly doesn't like it one bit. Katie seems lovely, even with her tendency to ramble, but she doesn't want to hear this. Of course, she's much too polite to tell Katie to stop talking.

So she only smiles and nods again, as she picks up her tray. "Definitely good."

The blonde grins at her, all perfect teeth and bright eyes. "You're such a good listener, Rachel. Thank you."

Katie picks up a bottle of water and scans the label quickly, pursing her bright pink lips. She looks up at Rachel, her expression completely serious all of a sudden. "Hey, how many calories are in water, do you know?"

… … …

Rachel grits her teeth a few hours later, when Noah and Katie walk on set together between takes. Katie is clinging to his arm, and he's wearing a satisfied smirk. They've been gone for almost an hour now, and it's most definitely not a secret what they've been doing during their absence. Rachel can't help but notice the way one of Katie's bra straps is all twisted, and the fact that Noah's t-shirt is half-tucked into his dark jeans. Also, there's a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, and Katie's face is more than a little flushed.

She's a little surprised to find that she hates looking at them, and promptly turns away when she watches Katie smile easily and reaches to fix Noah's shirt.

She scowls at her shoes when someone stupidly lets out a whistle and starts applauding as Noah makes his presence known, and she feels like kicking over a random prop chair as the applause grows louder, and Noah only laughs in response.

Unable to resist, she glances back to find Katie giggling into Noah's shoulder.

Nope, she doesn't like that one little bit. She doesn't even want to think about why.

… … …

The thing is, Puck doesn't even want Katie on set. Not really. But she pulled all this "Are you just using me for sex?" shit, and blinked her eyes, and there's just something about sad chicks that makes Puck want to fix them. He thinks that's down to living with two women growing up, and so all of a sudden Puck is acting like a nice guy and taking her to dinner and bringing her to his work, and she's all excited and grateful, and then she's pulling him into an empty room for a quickie (that actually wasn't so quick) in the middle of the afternoon.

That part isn't so bad, he's not gonna lie. But he hates that everyone is suddenly thinking she's his girlfriend. She's definitely not. She's hot and nice, and she's pretty cute, but she's too much of an airhead. And she talks way too much. Non-stop.

He can only think of one girl where he found that shit cute. That same girl has been watching he and Katie all day, whether she means to or not. So he can't be blamed for giving her a bit of a show, alright?

In between takes, when Ben is using a small screen to watch what was just filmed, Katie sidles over to him and flashes him a smile, slipping her hand into his. Puck hates hand-holding about 90% of the time, but Rachel is right next to him talking to Nick as she watches her scene, and so he suddenly finds himself spinning Katie under his arm before pulling her close to kiss her lightly.

Katie giggles like it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done, and she kisses him again, slipping her tongue into his mouth to search for his. She's a good kisser and so he kisses her back, still holding her hand.

He likes Katie, he does. Just not in that way.

And then he hears Rachel murmur something like "highly inappropriate" just as someone clears his throat, so he opens his eyes and pulls away to find Nick smirking at him and Rachel rolling her eyes. He only laughs, and Katie sticks her tongue out at Nick for the interruption.

… … ...

It's actually pretty funny, that Katie dumps him the next day. Okay, so it can't really count as being dumped when technically he wasn't even with her, but whatever. She does it over the phone too, which he isn't even bothered about.

She says something about not having any chemistry, even though he's "super-hot and great in bed". Then she proceeds to ramble about how their star signs aren't compatible, or some shit, and he doesn't even listen as she speaks, just holds the phone to his ear, makes some occasional sympathetic noises and channel surfs, flicking between some fishing show and a baseball game.

So yeah, whatever that shit with Katie was, it's over. He's okay with that.

… … …

Rachel gets the absolute fright of her life one afternoon. She's in the massive prop warehouse on the studio lot, simply exploring. She doesn't need to be in hair and make-up for another hour, and she's always thought that the prop storage was incredibly interesting, and so out of boredom she finds herself wandering through the aisles, giggling at some of the most ridiculous things. She's actually rather tempted to try on the mermaid tail she found, and go back to those fake ocean rocks, where she could sing Part of Your World from the Little Mermaid. She'd make a simply exquisite Ariel, of course. She knows all about not wanting to fit in and stay in the same old kingdom.

The lights in the warehouse turn off just as she's planning the exact time her voice should crack with emotion. Surprised, Rachel lets out a squeak and drops the fake fish she's holding, letting it fall to the ground with a muted thud.

"Hello?" She calls out uncertainly, inching her way slowly back towards the door, unable to see in the blackness. Her heart is pounding. There's no answer, and she can't help but think about the many horror movies she's watched with scenes just like this.

And then, in an instant, she realizes that she's acting like a scared child. Rachel Berry is no child. She's brave, and confident, and independent, and there's nothing to be scared of. So the lights have turned off – it's not like she's going to be murdered in a prop room. She giggles a little to herself, a little breathlessly. She's acting silly, and it's with that thought in mind that she walks a little more purposefully, shaking her head in amusement at her own actions.

It's probably just a blown fuse, anyway.

But suddenly, there's a loud clutter that echoes through the huge room, and a gasp escapes Rachel's lips, and she thinks that maybe she isn't alone after all. It sounds pretty far away, but the sound makes her jump, and she spins around, looking straight into the darkness.

"Hello?" She calls out again, willing her voice to sound confident. "Is anyone here?"

Once again, there's no answer, but there is another thud, and this one sounds closer.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel summons all of her courage and begins moving again, while she fumbles in her pocket for her phone. The squeak of someone's shoe on the tiled floor sounds from an aisle near hers, and she tries to ignore the pounding of her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

"I refuse to play whatever little game this is," She calls out suddenly, but her voice sounds shaky and she knows it. "It's silly, and childish, and I want you to stop!"

With a huff, Rachel finds her phone and pulls it out, immediately pressing some keys so that the light illuminates the aisle slightly. It helps her see and she's grateful, though she jumps when the tiny beam hits a rather terrifying-looking gorilla head.

"Ohmygod," She whispers to herself, trying to get a hold of her fear. She holds the phone in front of her, squinting in the darkness. The light reflects off the large glass eye of a model dinosaur, and she squeaks a little, quickly sidestepping through to another aisle. Body tense, Rachel continues moving, using her hands and the small beam of light to guide her through the large warehouse.

More clutters sound, and they're undeniably coming from an aisle close-by.

Rachel clutches her phone tightly, trying to remember everything she learned in her six-month self-defense class. Nothing comes to her mind immediately, so she quickly reaches out to grab something, anything that could be used to defend herself. But what she grabs feels hairy and squishy at the same time, and so she shrieks and jerks away, her footsteps faster and more purposeful.

Feeling a sudden gush of air behind her, Rachel gasps and spins on her heel, only to find that the aisle behind her appears to be completely empty. There is, however, a gap in the shelves leading into another aisle, so she quickly steps in that direction, looking for any signs of movement.

She is going to kill the person who's putting her through this. A long and painful death. Unless, of course, it's a real-life axe-murderer, who plans to kill her first. In that case, she doesn't really have a chance, but she fully intends to come back and haunt them.

"I'm going to die," She mutters quietly, as she makes her way through the warehouse. "I'm going to die, and I only have one Tony!"

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Rachel's neck stand up, and goosebumps cover Rachel's bare arms. Tense, and unable to shake the feeling that someone's watching her, she slowly turns around, the beam of light following her movements.

Standing motionlessly in the aisle behind her is a hooded figure in a long black cloak, a large knife held in his hand. Skin is peeling from his face, and large scars run across his cheeks and forehead. Angry sores cover almost every inch of his skin, and his lips are curled upwards in some sort of smirk.

Rachel wants to throw up. She scrambles backwards, eyes huge and full of fear. It takes her a second to realize that the scream she's hearing is coming from her own lips.

And then, as she's backing away, hand over her mouth, she sees a pair of camouflaged board shorts from underneath the swish of the cloak. She saw those shorts earlier today and knows exactly who they belong to. And suddenly, she realizes that the man's shoulders are shaking, not from some bloodthirsty desperation to kill, but from laughter. He's laughing at her.

And in the space of less than a second, Rachel Berry turns from absolutely petrified to downright furious.

"Noah Puckerman!" She roars, her voice echoing in the darkness. Noah, obviously unable to control himself anymore, let's out a loud bark of amusement and drops the knife as he gives in to his laughter, and Rachel watches through the light of her phone as it bounces on the floor of the warehouse. Knives aren't supposed to bounce; it's rubber.

In one swift movement, Noah takes off the terrifying mask and lets his cloak drop to the floor, and the light reflects against the glimmer of tears in his eyes as he laughs.

She's mortified. And angry. She thought she was going to die.

She strides towards him then, her fists balled furiously, and the second she reaches him, she begins hitting at his chest, her hands still shaking from the adrenaline.

Noah's own hands move to hold her wrists still, and he takes a huge breath, regaining his control. She glares up at him, trying to wrestle away his grip on her, but he refuses, and he's smiling wide as he looks down at her.

"Got you good," Is all he says, and she almost growls, quickly turning herself under his arms so that he has no choice but to let her go. Unthinking, Rachel grabs the closest thing to throw at him in an act of sheer frustration, and she watches in frozen surprise as a small plastic bag of fake blood flies through the air and hits Noah square on the chest, bursting at the impact. Instantly, Noah is showered in red liquid, and the pair can only stare at each other, blinking in surprise before they realize what just happened.

Rachel is the first one to react, and she lets out an unstoppable giggle as Noah wipes fake blood from his forehead. At the sound, his smile returns, and Noah steps towards her menacingly as Rachel bites on her lower lip.

"That's what you get," She says proudly, though she's a little worried about the smirk on his face.

In a blur of movement, Noah reaches out to grab a second bag and he aims it right at her. Hurriedly, she tries to dive out of the way, but it's too late; the bag hits her shoulder and promptly bursts, and she's suddenly drenched in red.

"Oh!" She splutters, wiping her lips as blood trickles down her face. "That's never going to come out of these clothes!"

Puck smirks and picks up a big bottle of fake blood this time, and Rachel's eyes grow wide as he tilts his head to the side, watching her. "That's what you get."

"Don't," She warns, backing away from him, but she's trying hard not to smile, and she puts her hands on her cheeks. "Noah. Don't!"

Noah shrugs and makes a sudden gesture, as if to dart forwards, but as he does, there's a high-pitched squeak of his shoes against the blood-stained floor, and he's suddenly slipping and falling, landing in a heap in the red puddle.

It's Rachel's turn to laugh and she does so loudly, throwing her head back and making no effort to hide her pleasure in his misfortune. She hears Noah laugh too, and there are tears in her eyes and she can't breathe, and then she feels a hand on her ankle and the man is effortlessly pulling her over, and she lands on his lap on the ground with him, where he quickly pours the bottle over her head. She screams.

"I hate you!" She says with a hiccup, her hands moving to her head, trying to ring out the blood from her hair.

"I hate you too, Princess," Noah says with a chuckle before he dumps her on the floor beside him. Rachel huffs and looks desperately around for something to pay him back with, as Noah looks down for a second, fixing himself.

She sees it quickly, in the beam of light shining from from her blood-splattered phone; a large tube of silver glitter on one of the lowest shelves. She grabs it quickly, and the flash of movement makes Noah look up.

"What've you got there?" He says suspiciously, and Rachel scrambles onto her knees, shrugging innocently.

"Nothing."

Noah's eyes narrow, and he copies her position, also getting onto his knees just inches away from her. "Rachel."

"Noah."

"What've you got behind your back?"

"Nothing."

She beams at him, mimicking the way he slowly gets up on his feet. Behind her back, she opens the tube and drops the lid, and it falls to the ground with the tiniest thud.

"What did you do there?" Noah asks lowly, and she shakes her head, still wearing a fake smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," She says sweetly, and steps towards him just as he takes a step back, his eyebrows raised.

Slowly, Rachel pulls out the tube of glitter. And even though the warehouse is pitch black, the glints of the glitter can clearly be seen.

He examines her for a second then smiles, and then he's running away from her, his retreating figure blending into the darkness.

"Fuck no you don't!" He's shouting, and she can't help but giggle as she runs after him.

She hears him from the next aisle, and she knows from her early experience with her 'axe-murderer', that there's a way she can cut him off. This game isn't going to last very long for him, and so she quickly moves to block his path, and turns off her phone light to confuse him. She hears him curse under his breath, but there's laughter in his tone, and she tries her very hardest to be quiet as she waits for him.

There's the pounding of footsteps approaching her, and as he gets closer she holds up the tube and tosses the glitter out into the air.

"Shit!" He swears loudly and Rachel laughs in complete triumph, quickly turning her phone back on so that she can see her work. Noah stands, inches away from her, soaked in fake blood and plastered in silver glitter.

"Shit," He repeats, looking down at himself. When he looks back up at her though, he's smiling. "You got me."

"I got you," She agrees, sitting the tube on a shelf. "Are we done now?"

Noah grimaces as he attempts to wipe glitter from his face then nods his head, smiling a little as he examines his glittery arms. "Yeah, we're done. Fuck. I look like that stupid sparkly vampire from that thing."

Rachel opens her mouth to reply, but she's interrupted by the sound of the warehouse doors opening, and she blinks in sudden brightness as the lights turn on. It's then she realizes the full state of herself and Noah, and her hands fly to her mouth. Their entire bodies are red, Noah is literally glittering, and there's an unmissable trail of fake blood behind them. All amusement is suddenly gone.

They hear people enter the room, and Rachel looks at Noah in fear.

"We're going to be in so much trouble!" She hisses, and Noah shrugs. Rachel kicks him.

"Fuck. Fine, c'mere." He bends low and moves to pull Rachel towards the exit, but she shakes her head determinedly.

"Noah, we can't leave like this. What if people see us? You're sparkly."

"Shit. Wait there," He instructs quietly, and sneaks around a corner, returning a couple of seconds with two more cloaks, identical to the one he wore earlier. Rachel glances at him in disbelief, before pulling it on her small body, wincing as the material sticks to her skin.

"Yes, because this won't look any more suspicious," She whispers sarcastically, but proceeds to crouch and follow Noah towards the exit, as the exclaims of two men sound from an aisle over.

"What the hell happened here? Call Carl!"

Rachel glances worriedly at Noah, but he simply winks and stays to the side of a set of shelves, moving quickly and quietly towards the set of doors. Rachel follows, breathing in relief when they finally step outside into bright sunlight, and move to stand round the corner of the warehouse.

"Well, shit," Noah laughs quietly, and he looks Rachel up and down. She frowns, wrapping the cloak tightly around herself. "You look completely fucking ridiculous."

"At least I'm not the one sparkling," Rachel retorts, rolling her eyes. Noah scoffs, his lips curved in a small smile.

They stare at each other for a moment, and Rachel can't explain why her palms are sweaty. She keeps a firm hold of her cloak, her eyes on his as he stares intently at her, not saying a word. It's unnerving, but she refuses to be the one to break the silence.

"Alright," Noah claps his hands together, nodding his head in the direction of the trailers. "Let's go."

He starts moving, keeping close to the wall so that he can avoid the various people walking around the set. It seems to work – they blend into the shadows cast by the buildings and various palm trees, and no one appears to notice them.

"Wait, where are we going?" Rachel asks curiously, following his every step.

"Your trailer. I need a fucking shower. I'm never gonna get this glitter off."

Rachel sighs, but doesn't argue. "I'm going first."

They make it to the trailer without any problems, and Rachel has just opened the door when Nick steps around the corner. He's on his cellphone, but hangs up instantly when he spots them in long black robes, every inch of them red and sparkling. He lets out a low whistle, and Noah laughs when Nick cheerfully states that Carl the prop guy is going to be pissed.

… … …

So yeah, they're both made to pay for the damages, including the cleaning of expensive costumes and the replacing of some props. Whatever, Puck doesn't really mind that, but he hates the way Ben speaks to him when he pulls he and Rachel up about it.

"I don't know what's going on with you two, but you really need to get over yourselves," He says, not unkindly. But still, Puck glares at the guy, and Rachel blushes beside him, looking down at her skirt.

It's been two days since they pretty much destroyed part of the prop house, and he's guessing that it was Nick who told Carl, who told Ben. Point is, he and Rachel are being told off like a bunch of kids, and he doesn't like it.

"I don't get it. First there's all this tension where you, Puck, won't stop complaining about Rachel, and then there's you, Rach, who avoids Puck like the plague. And to solve this you both decide to attack each other in the prop house? Can we please try to establish some form of professionalism here, for the sake of team morale, or whatever? You know as well as I do Puck, that we're having issues right now. Don't make it harder by acting like children and giving us a bad rep."

Puck sighs slowly, running a hand over his head. He hates to admit it, but Ben's right. "Yeah, man. Sorry."

"I'm sorry, Ben," Rachel pipes up from beside him. He doesn't look at her. "I don't even know what I was thinking. I'm usually far more professional and I can't-"

"It's fine. I usually wouldn't even mind, but Carl is pissed and tensions are already high right now, so..." Ben trails off with a shake of his head, and walks to the coffee machine, immediately pouring himself an espresso. "Puck, can you call the guys over at the office? Set up a meeting for sometime next week. Not Friday though."

"Already done. Thursday at four."

"Thanks. And I've booked you and Rachel a table at Di Salvo's on Friday at eight. You're having dinner and you're going to work out the issues you appear to have."

"The fuck dude, you can't just-"

"Puck, man. Chill. It's not a punishment. Just learn not to hate her for my sake, or I may kill you both."

"I don't hate her," He mutters, but he does it quietly so that no one hears him. He's pissed that Ben is bossing him around, kind of, but he knows that the guy has good intentions. And yeah, the dude has enough to stress about. The execs at the network are questioning the whole entire movie, and everyone's working hard to assure them that they're making the right choice.

Puck, knowing that they're done here, gets up and claps Ben's shoulder before exiting the room. Rachel follows but stays quiet until they're outside in the parking lot, where she immediately turns to glare at him, cheeks flushed.

"I can't believe you got me into trouble! This is all your fault!"

"Shit, Rachel. What are you, seven?"

She stares at him coldly. "Urgh. This is ridiculous. Why do you have to make things so difficult?"

Okay, so he doesn't hate her but he thinks he's pretty close to that right now. "I could ask you the same question, Princess."

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and glares, a piece of hair falling over her face. She blows it away impatiently. "You'd better show up tomorrow, Noah. I can't have anything else damaging my reputation right now. I mean it."

Puck chooses not to reply to that and simply walks away, back in the direction of his truck. He's out for the day.

… … …

The production meeting does not go well. Actually, it fucking blows. He and the others pretty much just spend the few hours they have almost begging to keep their jobs, to let the studio keep filming this movie. It sucks, because if the people from the studio fucking took the time to come down to set for more than a couple of hours at a time, then they'd see that what they have is pretty damn epic.

Ben, Nick, and Puck leave the meeting together, each man equally stressed. They share only muttered goodbyes as they leave, and Puck reminds himself to set up a meeting with the people from advertising. Maybe the could leak a crappy or story or something in order to gain some interest. The thought blows, but he really doesn't have much of a choice anymore.

… … …

The following night is his stupid dinner-date with Rachel, and he shows up at the resturant twenty-five minutes late. Rachel is waiting at the table wearing a displeased expression, and she promptly orders a bottle of wine from a hovering waitress when he sits down next to her.

"It took you long enough to get here," She hisses, and Puck rolls his eyes because, seriously, he is not in the mood for this shit. He and Rachel, when forced in a room together, are either really good or really bad, and he can't be bothered sticking around long enough to find out what it'll be tonight.

"Stop being so freaking uptight all the time," Puck retorts, sliding into the seat beside her. "There was traffic. It's LA. Not my problem."

"You obviously have no manners," Rachel says primly, reaching over the table for her menu. "The polite thing to do would have been to call ahead and let me know that you were delayed."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

"You've always been a great conversationalist," Rachel notes dryly, and Puck looks up at her, raising one eyebrow. "You're so good to talk to."

"Hey, you used to like talking to me," Puck replies, leaning back casually in his chair. "I remember that there was one certain type of conversation used to love. It involved me whispering the things I was planning to do you in your ear as my fingers worked their way-"

"Noah!" The girl whispers furiously, a scarlet blush filling her cheeks. "You're being so inappropriate right now. Stop."

"You love it."

"Hardly."

The waitress brings the wine then, and in Puck's opinion, she can't pour the glasses fast enough. Judging by Rachel's impatient fidgeting, she feels the same.

"What did Ben mean when he said that we – the movie - were having issues?" She asks, when the waitress has disappeared with their orders and Rachel has taken a long sip of wine. "Is it anything bad?"

Puck looks at her, with her huge eyes and worried frown, and he legit can't bring himself to tell her that they're having major problems with the studio, so he shrugs. "Nah, it's nothing I can't handle."

She visibly relaxes, even manages to flash him a little smile. "Good."

Puck nods, kind of, then drinks, looking around uninterestedly at the restaurant.

"Noah," Rachel reaches across the table to touch his hand. He looks down at where her fingers rest on his palm then back up at her, and she quickly pulls her hand away. "Look, could you... Can we just eat an amicable, simple dinner together? Let's not make this complicated or start any... discussions. Please?"

He breathes in, runs a hand over his mohawk. "Yeah, okay."

… … …

Dinner goes well. Ben would be proud of them.

Puck walks her to her car after (they're both fine to drive, they only had a glass of wine each), and when she hugs him a little hesitantly, he actually kisses her cheek. It's an impulsive, friendly thing, and he kind of regrets doing it immediately afterwards, but she pulls back and flashes him this huge big smile, and he can't help but smirk back at her.

"Goodnight, Noah," She says happily, as she climbs into the car, and he waves in response, watches her drive away before he walks to his own truck. He doesn't know, at that point, that some unknown asshole is taking pictures of the whole exchange and plans to sell those pictures to Perez-fucking-Hilton later tonight.