"Fuck, fuck - Luke -"
The doorbell rings. Ansa rushes to put her shirt back on before scrambling to the door.
"Jay?" She asks, incredulous. He's standing at her front door, all blonde, tanned, six foot four of him. He makes grabby hands at her waist, and it takes all the willpower she can muster to push them off.
"Is this a bad time?" Jason asks, and Ansa is suddenly acutely aware of how wrecked she looks. She smiles sheepishly, hand coming up to rest on a hickey that was definitely Luke's work.
"Uh, kind of." She manages. For a second, she thinks she might've seen him scowl, but when she looks again, there's nothing but an easy grin resting on his face.
"Who's over?" Jason asks. Ansa gives a nonchalant shrug.
"Luke from management," she admits. Jason's smile doesn't slip, and she can't help but feel a pang of hurt at his nonchalance. "Listen - unless it's urgent, I'm going back in," she says, raising an eyebrow. Jason makes an aborted motion towards her, and she can't help but move in closer. It feels wrong to be so close to Jason without touching him, so she lets her fingers trail up his chest.
"Jay?" She asks. His expression seems to morph several times before her eyes, until it settles on one she can't quite read.
"I'll come back later," he says finally. She can't help but feel something sit heavy in her chest as she watches him walk away.
