"IHOP is proof that God loves us." Veronica sighs contentedly and sits back against the vinyl booth seat. It's almost twelve o clock and they've been at the resturant for over an hour.
They'd been talking shit the whole way to the resturant and while they were waiting for the table and the food. They'd talked about Keith's tendencies towards silly socks, whether or not Weevil and his family would ever be able to support his little sister's kid, about old times. He'd brought up her rape claims and she'd shut him down quickly. That wasn't something she'd ever be able to forgive him for. Her anger dimmed with time and revenge, but she'd always remember him throwing those words at her, like she was nothing, disposable. Trash.
Lamb just looks at her now and smiles a little. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth and lights it. She looks at him incredulously. "You smoke now?"
"Yeah. I hate to remind you Mars, but it's a free country."
The waitress comes by to refill their coffee cups and drops the check on the table. "You can't smoke in here!" she says irritably. Veronica laughs a little. "Guess it's not such a free country after all." She reaches for the check and her hand collides with Lamb's. "I told you, I've got this one."
She grins at him. "And I've got the tip, remember?"
He looks at her for a second, not saying anything. "I was only kidding. I've got this."
She shrugs and withdraws her hand. She looks at the clock. "I better get going. My classes start in a half hour." She gets up to leave. "Any chance of me ever seeing my car again?"
"It's in the parking lot back at the station. I had Sacks park it there last night." He pays the check and stands up. "I'll drive you."
Out in the lot, he's walking behind her. He knows it's a bad idea, what he's thinking. And it's not as if he can't help himself. He's almost thirty not thirteen. But he taps her on the shoulder anyway and kisses her, Veronica Mars right there in front of God and man in broad daylight. Like it's nothing to be ashamed of. His hands are in her hair and he's pulling her closer into it and for a second it seems like she's letting him.
She has no idea how this happened and she doesn't try and figure it out. For all her goddamned former prowess at sluething, she can't even begin to fit this one together.
She tries not to think about it. The day Logan died. She's already decided that it wasn't suicide; his death had nothing to do with her and she's going to find out who really killed him. After all she is the Great Mars Detective, solving all cases in her path.
She gets drunk for the first time in a long time that night. And after that, there's no stopping.
She pushes him off of her and says "Fuck this," and runs, runs like some scarred little girl who can't even begin to deal.