Disclaimer: Pet Fly created the Sentinel and his universe. I just play there.
Author's Notes: > Decided to use this to work through my 'issues' with Christine Hong. Maybe now I can watch Martial Law without growling. Dedicated to all the gals like this in the real world, and the men they make miserable.
A MarySue is not the most important character in the story,
but she thinks she is.
Christine Hong walked up to the booth where three other girls were sitting. "Cindy, could you like scootch? Thanks." The waitress came over. "I am not in the mood for food. But I'll have a diet Pepsi."
"No Cin, I'm not dieting."
"Cause, and I'm saying this as a friend and sorority sis, your hips are getting a little chunky."
"Well thanks for the special bulletin. Bitch. No, I went to the museum with Blair, and I am still completely grossed. I thought it was going to be arty and cultural? But he showed me these implements that the Egyptians used to do something...you don't want to know about, not while you're eating fries with that much ketchup on them. But he told me. In detail. Yuck."
"I don't understand why you're dating a TA anyway. I mean, it's not like he's one of your teachers, easy lay easy A."
"Funny, Michelle. Who cares about your GPA as long as you graduate with your MRS? Like I'm some hag whose going to work for a living. But the boy had potential. His eyes are like the exact shade of blue of those topaz earrings I got for my sixteenth birthday? I thought he could just use a personal shopper. I mean that flannel and jeans grunge look is so late-80's. And he drives a Corvair, and lives in a loft over on Prospect, so I thought I smelled money, honey. But the Corvair? Sometimes a classic is just a really old car. And it isn't even his place, he's got a roommate. This cop, Ellerson or something, he's like forty but eminently slurpworthy for a geezer. If I was into living dangerously, I'd do him."
"Oh, he has a roommate?"
"Oh, yeah, Tammy. He's queer. That's why he followed me around for a month with his tongue hanging out before he asked me out. No, he like knows the guy 'cause he's doing a paper on the police, and when he lost his old place, Ellerson let him rent his spare room."
"What a loser. Didn't know you were into charity work, Chris, but couldn't you just read to the blind? Why haven't you dropped him yet?"
"He's great in the sack. And we got into this fight. He's working on a case with the cop roommate, and I'm like, who are you, the Hardy Boys or something? And he was telling me about this dead girl after we were making out, I mean, isn't that like necrophilia or something, maybe he should get help. We went to Club Doom ten minutes before closing so he could ask some questions, we didn't even get to dance. So I'm putting up with all this crap because he is Mondo Cute and then he accuses me of leaking stuff to the news. Like I've been listening. Like this sick stuff is soooo fascinating I've been running all over town telling people. So I'm like, 'I'll call you.' On the twelfth of Never!!! But he's been coming around, apologizing, batting those baby blues, so I figure we'll go out, I'll get another ride out of him, and if he's really sorry I'll let him buy me something nice to remember him by, and then it's bye-bye Blair. Kevin's finally noticed me, now that I've wiggled my fabulous butt at him enough. Med school, ladies, eat your little hearts out."
On the other side of the University Pub, James Ellison closed his eyes and reminded himself that this would not be considered justifiable homicide. He threw a couple bucks on the table to pay for his drink, and walked out. In the parking lot, Blair was just getting out of his 'classic' clunker.
"Hey Jim, I know I'm running a little late, hope you don't have to blow off lunch."
"No. Something in there was making me sick," he said truthfully. "Thought we could try that veggie place you've been raving about."
Blair bounced on his toes, eyes sparkling, happily innocent. "You want to go to Gaia's Garden? Who are you and what have you done with Jim Ellison?"
He made a joking reply, as Blair got back into his car and he walked over to his truck, thinking "Some Blessed Protector, I gave you some bad advice about getting back together with that mercenary bitch," and cursed his Sentinel senses for yet again providing him with information he didn't want to know. Blair was going to be dumped, Blair was going to get hurt, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. But he could be there to help pick up the pieces when it was over.
~ End ~
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Page last updated 8/15/03.