Davis had got what he needed - or wanted. Maggie couldn't really tell anymore with these rising star types. She wanted to care about them, but hadn't the slightest how to do so - as her little episode with Boston attested to in volumes. Guilt and self loathing flooded over her for having sat there while the singer staggered off to indulge in hard drugs. Helplessness - if she had to put a name to the weight pressing down on her shoulders, that would be it. She couldn't make Davis, or anyone else for that matter,<em>want</em>to behave, and even if she could, doing so might drain the whole enterprise of the grit and mystic rock n' roll sales were made of. The more she mulled over the demands of her job, the more futile and redundant they appeared.<br/><br/>Expelling a sigh, she rose to her feet, and even through the throws of her weariness, cast Aurora a genuine smile. "Thanks." She paused, fiddling with the ends of her shirt. "I mean it."<br/><br/>Aurora's advice had been taken to heart, and emboldened the petite manager in ways that were noticeable through the wear of the day. Maggie moved to the back of the bus, opening and closing the door to the Master bedroom as she passed through it heading to the bathroom. She swung open that door as well, and hovered in the threshold.<br/><br/>"Look, I'm not sure if you're sadist who get off on convincing girls you care about them so you can humiliate them in public, but I'd appreciate it if you'd save some of the hot water so that I can wash off the shame before I get some sleep." She called through the thick, rain forest like clouds of steam.