Yet again, he felt bad for her and the situation she was in with Dave.  Her use of the word<i>cheaters </i>stood out like the brightest of beacons, able to cut through thick fog and even thicker concrete.  Paul knew how that felt, seeing as how Jemma messed around behind his back.  What made it worse was<i>how</i>he found out, since she lacked the fucking guts to tell him straight-up.  A chance location.  A chance glance.  A not-so-chance kiss, for it lasted way too long for it to be "just friends."  He remembered never going home that night, choosing instead to check into a hotel on the outskirts of town.<br/><br/>Paul was sure to make it a good night, dammit!  On the way there, he rented a copy of his beloved<i>Pulp Fiction </i>and both volumes of<i>Kill Bill.  </i>Yep, it was definitely gonna be a Quentin Tarantino kinda night.  Plus, all three soundtracks were worth the price of admission alone.  A fifth of Reposado Tequila was gonna be his "girlfriend" for the evening.   He drained “her,” too.  And “she” did the same the following morning.<br/><br/>Not wanting to remove his attention from the road ahead, he nevertheless gazed her way as she stared out the window.  Man, she’s just a kid, he thought.  She’s got so much living and learning to do.  And loving.<br/><br/>Yo, Old Man.  Will you quit sounding like Obi-fucking-Wan?!  Stifling a laugh, Paul had to admit that that was a good one.  A real good one!