#myrtlexwilson

Dressed in the cleanest clothes he could pull form his drawers,  George stepped out from the shop's from doors. Flattening the dark and slightly stained pants, he pulled the shirt over to hide the grease. "Dammit..." he uttered, looking back at the from doors. Tripping over the sidewalk where it came up, he walked to about the same resuarant he had seen this woman at earlier. She cam eby right often, from what he could tell. And she was absolutely gorgeous. George wanted-needed0 to tlak to her at least once. Opening the door, there she was per always. A shakey smile formed as he tripped again over his own feet.  Regaining his balance, he went over to a seat just a few feet from her. All he needed was her name, just that.

He smirked at her. "So to be clear, you aren't made at me? We'r efine, and we both want this baby? " He asked, hands coming up her sides.

Ewing had been married for a day, and a day was long enough. f course the sex was undoubtable nice. He hardly remembere dit, but the way he felt early in the morning was still tired and worn. Men are better. He turned over on his stomach, checking the clock on the side tbale. It was lat ein the afternoon. A small groan left him as he turned again, pulling the blanket to cover the bottle half of his body. "Wake up" he muttered, nudging Myrtle gently. "Wake up..." he nudged her again.

*mun screams into the distance because OTPs*"Well...that's...hard..." Cristina mumbles, looking down at her feet. "I love Damon, with all my heart I really do. And I love Myrtle, she's my best friend, really. But..." She sighs. "I am engaged to Damon...and carrying his child...so...Damon."