Luck
By Dimmer
"Just my stinkin', rotten, curséd luck," Perfect Tommy was sitting in a chair at the hospital, filling out paperwork, the last thing he ever wanted to do. The Jane Doe slept in a bed in the sunroom nearby, still out after three days. Three days of avoiding this paperwork, hoping she would wake up and do it herself.
"Your luck can't be that bad," a woman said, "You're not the one in a hospital bed."
He harrumphed at that, and looked up to shoot a scathing gaze at the nurse or candy striper who was bothering him. There was no one there, until he saw the patient smiling, checking him out, happy with her own joke. "When did you wake up?" he demanded. "How long have you been planning on letting me do all this paperwork for you?" He was standing now, hands on hips, indignant.
The girl sat up, and looked around for something. Squinting, she finally saw the eyeglasses that had been smashed in the accident. "Blast." She went back to evaluating the man with the tiger-striped purple and aqua hair. He was lean and tough, despite the silver lamé jacket and tight white denim trousers. Possibly compassionate as well, since he was still here, helping her.
"Oh, is that why your luck is bad? Paperwork?," she sneered playfully, "I've got to try and see past that hair without my glasses, and your luck is bad?" She shook her head, then glanced conspiratorially at him, "If you get me new glasses, maybe I can fill some things out for myself?"
The Cavalier harrumphed again, and folded his arms across his chest. "How's about you telling a nurse what to write?"
The nameless girl folded her own arms and put on a little of his attitude to match, "How's about you write for me? You can come over here, and I can get a better look. At you, I mean."
He thought about it for a few seconds, checking her out in return. About twenty, the ideal age for him, she had waist length hair and blue eyes, and she really was trying to come on to him. He moved the papers to a chair nearby. "Name?"
"Elizabeth Roxanne Markona. Yours?" She stuck out her hand for a shake.
"Perfect Tommy." He took her hand and kissed it, instead of a shake, giving a slight bow at the same time. As Knight of the Lesser Boulevards he figured he should occasionally act chivalrous, just to keep in practice.
"Hmmm. Perfect, huh?" She raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief, "We'll see about that."