mirigen

To say Fiddleford was disappointed was an understatement. He was having such a nice evening up to now too.

“I’m not that drunk,” he said petulantly.

Stan squeezed his shoulder before letting him go. “Yeah, you are.”

“I still want ya.”

Stan chuckled darkly, “that’s exactly the kind of bad decisions you shouldn’t take now.”

Fiddleford sat back but made no move to leave, looking down at his hands in his lap. The silence stretched, weighting them down.

“Can I still see ya again?” He asked, looking back at Stan. Behind him, he could see the light on in the bedroom. Emma-May was still up, no doubt worried about him. Not that he deserved it.

Stan smiled, “if you want you, yeah.”

“I want to.”

“I’m staying at the motel on 25th street. Room 186.”

Fiddleford nodded, getting a pen out of his pocket and writing the information on the back of his hand.

“I could have given you a paper.” Stan pointed out.

Fiddleford smiled at him, “it’s more fun that way though. Makes me feel like a schoolgirl."

Stan snorted and got out of the car. Fiddlford watched him walk over to his side to open the door for him. “M’Lady,” he said, bowing forward.

Fiddleford laughed and finally got out. He could feel Stan’s eyes on him as he crossed the street on unsteady legs. Maybe he was a little drunk after all. He opened his front door and glanced back just in time to see Stan’s car leave. He looked at his hands and decided he would definitely call Stan once he was sober.