Perhaps We'll Meet Another Day

The Meaning of Nothing

Law lay awake, covered only from the waist down by the dusty, dingy comforter of a most likely long-dead stranger's bed, staring out the window of the little bedroom absently. It was still dark, but he could see the first vestiges of the light of the sun beginning to make its way across the sky. They would be on their way soon, he thought, giving no more than a glance at the sleeping woman beside him. Other than that one look, he did little else to acknowledge she was even there.

He felt...frustrated, to say the least. He'd caved in to his urges, and damn him, nothing had changed in the slightest. That tension he could feel on his shoulders hadn't loosened, hadn't gone away, and now added onto it was the worry that this would only make things complicated in the long run. Definitely not his smartest decision. What had he been thinking? Well, he knew exactly what he'd been thinking, actually, that he hadn't had sex in ages, and that maybe Margaret would be a viable option of getting rid of some of this stress.

Guess that plan was a bust, closing his eyes in annoyance when she let out a particularly loud and nasally snore, shifting on the bed to get in a more comfortable position beside him. At least she hadn't woken up yet, because he wasn't really in the mood to talk to her or see that relief or anger or happiness or whatever he'd see in her eyes. Law was never fond of the morning after routine, and this was no exception.

She was equally as naked as him, covered only from her hips down, but he felt no inclination to appreciate the view. She really wasn't his type. She was a bit older than him, not that her age was the only deciding factor in that, but she just...didn't appeal to him very much. Her personality and his weren't...compatible? That was the best word for it. He felt nothing towards her whatsoever, at least, nothing blatantly positive. Maybe in another life, another circumstance it would have been different, but there was no spark, no interest between them. At least from his perspective. Whether she saw something between them or not was her own fault and her own problem. Law wouldn't be blamed for instigating what had happened. Hell, she'd been the one to come onto him in the first place.

Margaret shifted beside him again, turning onto her back and draping an arm over his covered leg. The position exposed her bare chest to the room, and he noted the numerous hickies that littered her torso. Her hair was a complete bird's nest, scratches on her arms and shoulders where he'd been more than gentle. The sight of his doing gave him no pride nor satisfaction.

Feeling her unconsciously move closer to him in the bed, seeking his warmth or some other comfort, Law shifted his leg slowly out of the way, being sure not to wake her as he stood from the bed. Shivering slightly as the cold morning air hit his newly exposed skin, he walked to the other end of the room where most of his clothing had ended up tossed in a corner, stooping to pick up his pants and boxers.

Law dressed quickly, glancing over his shoulder every once in awhile to see if Margaret had awakened. For all the world knew, she was dead from how deeply she'd fallen asleep. Not that he blamed her. Three rounds was enough to sate most women, especially as rough as it ended up being during the previous night, and the exertion had done exactly what she wanted: made her forget why they'd come all the way out there to begin with.

Fastening his belt around his waist and tying his shoes, Law straightened and searched for his pack. There was still a half-box of dry pasta that he hadn't eaten for dinner the night before, and so he withdrew it as he exited the bedroom, making his way to the living room downstairs.

A quick glance out the front window confirmed that zombies still wandered the streets. At least they hadn't tried getting into the house last night. With all the noise they were making he could have sworn it would gain at least a few of their attentions. However, there was no damage to the barricades reinforcing the doors or windows from what Law could see. Satisfied that they weren't in any immediate danger, he set himself on the couch and opened the box of food. The shells crunched loudly as he ate, long ago having gone stale. They had no taste whatsoever, but at least it was something edible. Better than cans of dog or cat food like he'd had to resort to in the past.