mxmentumis​:
A week. Another week in Vegas seemed like a bad idea. Especially, with how irresponsible she had been. A heavy night of drinking and partying had left her hung over in a strange hotel bed with a complete stranger. Married. The only thing that seemed to keep her from crying on the spot was the fact her new husband wasn’t bad looking and, well, he was actually really nice to her. But, the reminder of her bad choices made her hands smack against her face in frustration, letting out a loud whine not caring if he was in the room or not. Philip was his name. Super American name. Eyes still covered with slender hands and staring at the simple gold band on her finger… Haunter her, Yara spoke out loud enough for him to hear her. "I can’t stay in Vegas for another week… I have work to do and—- UGH!!" Another frustrated noise. Work. Work meant her family… How was she going to explain this to them?
Philip leaned on the sink in the hotel room’s small bathroom, examining the dark circles under his eyes. Christ, how much had he had to drink? He was no lightweight; it took a lot to put him on his ass as a general rule -- and to do the sort of stunt he’d evidently pulled last night…he guessed it must have taken a hell of a lot more.
At least she wasn’t blaming him for their spontaneous nuptials. He’d tracked down the place where they’d had the ceremony done and gotten the story that they’d both been equally into the idea at the time, which was a relief. And he had to admit -- all else aside, she was damned pretty, and damned smart from what he remembered of their conversation early in the evening before the booze had fully taken hold. He was sorry her memory of him was going to be primarily of the awkwardness since they’d woken up...otherwise he’d definitely be planning to call her again.
Stop being sentimental, Phil. Time to wake up and be a grown-up.
“Well. I’ve got the hotel room for another week anyway,” he said over his shoulder, quickly finishing dressing and -- after a moment’s slight hesitation -- sliding the ring back onto his finger. Then he emerged, toweling down his still-wet hair with one hand.Â
“So...I mean, you won’t be out anything, if you want to stick around and get everything taken care of. I’ll kip on the couch.” He’d slept worse places in his time in the military; even now that he was out and working a proper computer engineering job, he still was pretty un-picky about where he ended up sleeping. “If not, though...well, we can work it out, either way, I guess. Mail the paperwork or whatever.”
