Roy constantly feared his promises were empty. He wanted to mean it, he wanted it so desperately to be real, yet still it felt forced. Was he truly okay? Roy was uncertain. Even after six glasses of beer, Roy wasn't sure if he had convinced Dade, or himself. It could've been well empty, well hollow. Roy knew very well he would never be who he once was, and that was one thing he needed no convincing.

"I'm proud of you, Dade," Roy said. "For what you've done. How you are."

Dade shrugged. "I'm still me."

"How's your sister? Is she still living here?"

"Dahlia is quite fine. Her boy popped the question not too long ago."

Roy sighed. "That's so good."

"She said yes too."

"She'll probably move out then, I reckon."

"Very soon. She should be home from working any time now."

"Working, huh?"

"It's a world, isn't it."

Roy nodded. "I had someone."

"Was she pretty?" Dade asked.

"Stunning," Roy answered. He wasn't sure if he was consciously referring to Alice or MacKenzie. Either one, he supposed.

"What happened?"

"It just didn't work."

"Shit happens, Roy."

"Oh, trust me," Roy agreed. "I know."

"Bitterness is hard to resist but you can resist it."

"Possibly."

"You're okay with me staying here tonight?"

"You and I both know you're far too drunk to..uh, roll."

"That's fair."

"No but really. It's fine. We bought a new couch. Let me show you."

"It's getting late anyway. Ah, I remember your house."

The French doors opened up to the familiar back porch and Roy smiled remembering old times.

"You get to sleep, Roy. I know I am."

"Thank you. Really, Dade."

He smiled. "Stop thanking me."

Roy chuckled in agreement as Dade shut the door to his bedroom.

Roy once again found himself alone with his thoughts. His clothes suddenly felt too tight, too hot. It was as if this was some sort of separation anxiety, but Roy couldn't tell if it was from Dade, or the women on his mind. He rubbed his eyes and remembered the half empty carton of cigarettes he had brought along with him. Fishing in his sweater pocket he retrieved the lighter and wheeled out onto the back porch. It was pitch black besides the dancing light of the weak lighter almost empty it would barely catch the cigarette. Roy took a long drag and closed his eyes. A calming sound of night creatures graced his ears. The ringing of nature, inviting. Nothing like the streets of LA. Far away from any city. Scuffles in bushes. The gentle breeze. A second of bliss, if any at all.

The sound of a kerosine lamp being switched popped on behind Roy. He didn't glance back, he didn't bother. He felt another surge of anxiety and opened his eyes.

"I didn't know you came back." A smooth, feminine voice.

"I didn't know you worked. It's almost midnight," Roy commented.

"I had things to finish."

A hand lay on Roy's shoulder.

"You're much daring than I remembered."

Dahlia was so fucking beautiful. Roy had forgotten. He had forgotten a lot of things. Her ebony hair outlined her rose petal face and her lips were crimson red. Her tight black dress blended in with the night, yet her green eyes were as emerald as ever.

Roy realized Dahlia had pulled up a chair next to him. She took the cigarette out of his mouth, inhaled a puff, and threw it in the grass.

"I'm glad to see you," Dahlia smiled.

"Likewise," Roy agreed.

She grasped his hand. Roy sighed.

"How was the city?" asked Dahlia.

"Well, it's not as fantastic as I've heard."

"I thought about going."

"I always wondered that."

"Then I met William."

"I'm told you're engaged now."

"I am," Dahlia smiled, proudly displaying her hand graced by a large sapphire ring.

"I hope he's nice to you."

"Definitely."

"Hey, remember when I kissed you right here? Right in this spot."

Dahlia grinned. "Yeah, I remember, Roy."

"So long ago, right."

"Very," Dahlia agreed. "Are you married?"

"I'm not."

"I'm so surprised."

"Are you."

"I always thought you would've proposed to me."

"I might've if you would have come to California."

"It wouldn't have been for me, Roy."

"I think it would've been for you."

"But it wasn't for you."

"Could've been."

"But it's not. Which is why you're on my porch, right?"

"Sort of," Roy said. "I suppose so."

"Then it wouldn't have been worth me moving either. Let's go inside. I'm chilly." She slid the door open and Roy shut it behind him.

Dahlia sat on the couch and took off her heels. She rubbed her face, never minding the lipstick she slightly smeared whilst absent mindedly doing so. Roy studied every inch of her movement, her delicate fingers, each time she blinked.

"You're working," Roy said.

Dahlia smiled. "Finally, right? The library."

"Is it everything you hoped it would be?" Roy smirked.

"Yeah, something like that," answered Dahlia. She cracked her knuckles. "What happened, Roy."

Roy frowned. He cracked his knuckles in return and swallowed.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to answer I just-"

"We were filming. I fell."

"Oh."

"Figured the flickers weren't for me, I guess."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"But it's not."

"I guarantee you it is."

"Did you travel alone?"

"Y' know it's so funny how much I've gotten that question. Like cripples somehow have no sense of direction. Because clearly I've found my way to my destination."

"Are you staying here for awhile?"

"Uncertain."

"I'd like you to come to my wedding. If you'd like."

"That would be nice."

Dahlia suddenly leaned over to Roy, tucking his hair behind his ear. She kissed him gently, deeply, softly.

"I'm glad you agree," she said.

Dahlia reached for her shoes and rose.

"He didn't get you a blanket or anything?"

"I'll be fine," Roy insisted.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"I love you Roy. Goodnight."

"Pleasure."