Tired

"Mm... I think I might like to come see the races," Alec muses. "See what kind of danger you get yourself into."

Watching her peer into the refrigerator, he folds his arms and cocks his head, taking in the scene before she straightens up again, sitting on the counter. Moving closer to her, a crooked grin forms on his face, his eyes widening ever so slightly when she pauses in the middle of her last sentence. The mention of dessert makes the faint grin grow. "Been a long time since I've had chocolate cake..."

Nearing the counter, he comes as close as he can, standing between her knees. His hands slide around behind her and he pulls her into him. "...with whipped cream. That might curb my sweet tooth. Or..." He tilts his head down and gives her neck a light kiss. "We could experiment..." The line of kisses moves up to her cheek. "And find out if..." Up and around her cheek bone and back down to her lips. "You could curb it instead."


Scott's eyes shoot up at Hope's mention of her staying at his house. He hadn't expected that kind of offer. When she's finished speaking though, he shakes his head. "I don't feel unsafe."

Memories of the night he'd been attacked come flooding back. The shouting... gunshots... blood... who he'd killed. He snaps back to attention. "I took care of myself well enough the last time... I'm not worried about that." He shrugs. "I think you coming to stay with me might be... overkill."

Turning his fork in his hand for a few moments, he finally sets it on his plate and shoves it to the side, a signal for the waiter to pick it up next time he walked by. Not even half had been eaten.

"I don't... know what's wrong with me, Hope. I'm trying to not shut you out and I'm trying to let God help. But it's hard when I'm carrying a burden without even knowing what that burden is. I can't control what's happening in my brain and it's screwing everything up."

Frustration laces his words and he crumples up his napkin, tossing it onto his finished plate. He'd been doing so well. He'd been back to his old self again. He'd found himself even after all he'd been through. What had happened? What had gone wrong, and when? And why?

Looking down, he realizes that his hand had clenched into a fist, turning his knuckles white. There was still buried anger that one session with a punching bag had not defeated.

"Can we talk about something other than me?" he asks quietly. "I'm tired of being the topic of the hour."


Mick sits back in his chair, a pensive expression on his face. Sparky really had done a lot. More than Mick had ever expected. His brother had done more than simply step up to the plate. When Mick had failed and left everyone behind, Sparky had fallen into step without a grudge, without complaint. And that deserved a thanks.

The wheels in Mick's mind continue to turn. "I know we haven't set up an official rank system around here," he mentions. "Everyone always works so well together but... If it's alright with you, I'd like to name Sparky as the foreman around here. I looked at the books and it looks like we could afford to bump up his pay a little bit too."

He swivels in his seat to look at Rosetta again, searching to see if she agreed. He seems to bounce to a different topic just as quickly. "He's pretty serious about this Faith woman, isn't he?"