Title: Strange Strangers
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing

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He stares up at the ceiling, his mind, for once, blank. He glances across the bed, watches the shirt ride up her back as she slips into her heels.

She stands, straightens her skirt, spends a few extra minutes adjusting her breasts, then looks at him expectantly.

He scowls.

She's so... perfect. They all are.

She pulls her purse up over her shoulder, wrings her hands. "So..."

"Wallet's on the dresser," he tells her hollowly, rolling onto his side. "Don't bother trying to steal anything. Lock up on the way out. And don't touch the piano."