As I was eating, I noticed Darien Fawkes across the room. We pretended not to know each other, but he kept doing "meaningful" things to crack me up like breathing heavily on a silver cigarette case. Whatever. I fell off my chair with laughter at one point, mid-fettuccine. Then I invited him to stay the night as my paid man-whore. The staff girls giggled to themselves when he accepted. Wink, nod.
However, somehow he ended up being serviced by three or four of them on the far end of the room while I finished off my meal. And I let him sleep that off, but when he woke, it turned out that one of girls had infected him with cryptomutant alien spores, and as a result his entire body was turning to moldy swiss cheese.
Then we went to the airport.
