Or, you know, whatever it is. Hee! Spent a lovely afternoon chatting and not-writing, and that's okay, except that this is the serious kind of not-writing where there isn't even an idea brewing, just tension and a deadline and two characters scowling at each other and me. It's cool. There's still, what, four or five days? No prob.
I have nothing to say about Lance smoking, because as an oncology nurse, I'm of course officially disapproving and judgy. I can't talk about how utterly delicious it all is, and how much I love him, and I certainly can't mention how the the photographer seems to have caught him right in the middle of trying to hide it, and how that is the very best part. Lance!
Dinner and sesa. Urg.