Creative Way to Kill

As Stacy came to the window - instead of Ashlee as expected - Travis took a step back, his eyes going as wide as dinner plates. If it hadn't been so dark out, anyone would have been able to see his face turn from ghostly white to bright red. For a moment, he just stared dumbly at Stacy and blinked. 

"I... I didn't.... it was..." He clamped his mouth shut to keep from stammering any more, and glanced to the next window over, which was probably the one he should have been at. His eyes shot back to Stacy's frown, and he sank down at least a inch. He swallowed hard, knowing he needed to speak now, and also knowing that he looked like a retard at least, a creepy prowler at most - neither of which would be good in this situation. Then it struck him.  

Dylan. 

He withheld an angry growl as his insides turned. He was making an even bigger mess here, and there was someone else to blame, now. "I'm sorry," he finally apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to startle anyone. I just... I hadn't seen Ashlee and I know I'm not supposed to be here, and she probably won't even be allowed to talk to me for at least the next two years, but I just..." He bit his lip. "I wanted to tell her I was sorry because if it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened and..." 

His voice trailed off as he looked up at the one woman he never should have ticked off. He'd been in hot water earlier, and now that water felt like it had been turned up even more to boil. "And I owe you an apology too," he concluded. "I don't understand everything, and I still don't agree but... it was wrong of me take Ashlee with me to town. I didn't mean to put her in danger or get her into trouble." He sighed deeply. "I...thought this was actually her window, and now... I have to find a creative way to kill Dylan without any evidence because he's the one that pointed me to this particular spot. And no...I'm not kidding."


Aaron gave Sam a bit of a scowl, although he did wonder why she was saying all that. He didn't really get it, honestly. 

"Move forward to what?" He held up the magazine. "This?" He gestured around the infirmary. "This? Being a prisoner? Going to jail?" He shook his head. "I did have a future. With the Agency. It was the only place I ever fit in and belonged and was respected. Out here...I'm just that white trash kid again, headed for the rubber factory." 


Pizza? Dalton was actually inviting him to hang with him and Scott? Jamison couldn't remember when he'd been invited by anyone at the FBI office to do anything outside work. He just didn't have any friends or even close coworkers to do anything with, and he couldn't help the look of surprise on his face now. 

"Um...sure." A new smile spread on his lips. "I like pizza. It would be...nice to get to know you and Scott better." Dalton was right - if they were going to be working together, they should get to know each other better. "Where do you usually go for pizza?"