ML skews my Kinsey bigtime. That face... the way the chin comes up. Gah.

Yup. She's tough and tender and and sensational. Besides, gotta love a redhead.

deb, your story gave me the chills. So perfect. I am always a fan of the schmoop.

I missed "The Young Riders" but I know many of her fans remember it fondly.(And that has got to suck, being run off by twinkies twice.)And I am very proud that you think I captured Kay. She's a great character. And, on H:LOTS she looks that good with(next to) no make-up. Like my mom says when she gets to swinging The Hair around "I hate her. Not really."(And really The Hair is what sent her to Caritas, cause I wrote "It's all about The Hair." which of course sounded like "It's all about the coat." And it's good practice for me (in writing and in life) to get inside a character who doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve. Cause Timmy or The Munchkin? In hugely different ways...but if you ask them what time it is, they'll tell you the story of their lives. Which is more like me. Kay would be like "My watch stopped."

I sang like I wanted to go home with every critter in that place. And I could've, with more than a few. And I'm not flattering myself...apparently grief and Scotch are beauty aids on me. Go figure. I pushed sweaty hair out of my face and went to the table. The waitress wanted to take the bottle away. "Leave it."

A familiar voice, Munch's voice, says "Hmm. Bottle of Scotch. One glass. Sounds like a medical emergency. Who died?"

For ten seconds, my relief was so great, I could have hugged him. As it was, he started my tears flowing, and I didn't try to stop. "Oh, God, Munchkin," I said. But John and I never stay in those places long. "Who do you think, genius? Pick up a phone or something, Munchkin. You've had me out of my mind here...you know the kinds of stuff I've been picturing, huh?"

"I'm guessing it didn't involve you, me, and a can of Reddi-Wip."

"Same old Munchkin,"
He looked darker than usual and said "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But I've been going through some changes, lately."

"That's no excuse for letting me think you were...10-7, John. This whole time, I've been thinking we had another Crosetti on our hands."
"So all this? The pilgrimage to LaLa...the provocative but inane song stylings? For me? I'm touched, babe. But you should've saved yourself the trip."
"Since when have I let you decide what I do? Not while there's blood in these veins, huh? And not exactly for you. We haven't been each other's box of matches, huh?"

"That's cause you were smarter than me. Smart enough to stay away. No matter what, remember that, ok, babe? You were always the brains."

"What's all this 'were'. You could still get lucky. Brain cells die as you get older."

He picks up my glass. "Especially if you pickle them in booze...just what the doctor ordered for a GSW patient, huh?"

"GSW survivor, babe. I'm bulletproof now. Gee sent out a memo and everything, which you would get if you were back at work."

"Well, Supergirl, I've proven I still make women cry...let's see if I'm still kryptonite." And he leaned in, as if to kiss my forehead, which felt crazy enough...I slapped his face once and that was about our physical contact limit, but it was not as crazy as my kissing his mouth. It was like those dreams where you find yourself married to somebody you barely know, or you know, like Munch's real life. And like those dreams it ended weirdly.

"Back, demon!" Wesley said. I looked over my shoulder and I saw him, carrying a crucifix. I turned to give Munch a "Can you believe this?" look, but it wasn't Munchkin I saw. His face was covered in ridges and his eyes were gold. He broke his grasp on me and ran off. "Holy shit!" Wesley saw I was freaked and tried to get me to go with him. I walked faster and gave him some finger gestures you don't learn in finishing school.. "I was going to tell you..."
"But what? You didn't want to ruin the surprise? Fuck you, Wesley." And I thought that sentence was gonna sound so different.
"There are things that you need to say that you never know the right time for," he said.
"Before my massive heart attack is good, Wesley. Right about then, huh?"
"You're just lashing out out of anger, fear, and confusion. It's perfectly natural."
"Well, great, cause now? I'm gonna go to the hotel and vomit. That's natural, too. "

Oooh! More, more!

I took off the other direction and didn't let Wesley follow me.

I don't quite get this. I think it reads better without it.

That's just amazing, Erika. I want more! I'm bouncing in my seat!

Wouldn't it suck if I wrote myself into a corner now? I'm still not sure how they're gonna deal, though.

Tiny steps, tiny bites, tiny men with tiny brains. I told myself I would never do that, and I don't.

t applauds wildly

Oh, Deb. Yes, yes, and yes. And thank you.

Thanks...not that I'm sorry to be mistaken for debg...maybe married people type alike.