[for dr_julianna_cox and backdated to last week]

[alan_shore]

He’d bought the Mercedes seven years ago with the better part of an extravagant and wholly deserved bonus, had borne the inevitable cracks about his midlife crisis bemusedly. It was by no means a flashy car-four doors, a top that wouldn’t budge, a coat of black paint designed not to turn any heads-but it handled well and, on those occasions when

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[dr_julianna_cox]

There was movement, and then the sound of several locks being turned one after the other. A second later and Julianna opened the door.

"Alan," she smiled warmly.

She was dressed in her usual comfortable black slacks and three-quarter sleeved blouse and looked less weary than the last time they'd met.

[alan_shore]

"The very same," Alan confirmed. His hands went to his tie, tightening its knot and smoothing its lolling silk tongue.

"It took me..." He shook his head in disbelief. "New York on a Friday night. What was I thinking."

[dr_julianna_cox]

She shook her head with a smirk. "Clearly you weren't." A second later and she was out of the apartment, locking the door behind her.

[alan_shore]

"It's difficult to engage in higher cognitive functions when gifts are at stake."

Chisel that into his tombstone.

"You look good," he said, the compliment offhand, accompanied by a smile rather than a leer.