Marie’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich sat idly on the counter, becoming soggier the minute. she wasn’t hungry anymore. She couldn’t bare the thought of eating it now.
“Weren’t you hungry?” Logan asked, taking a swig from his beer.
“I was. I’m not anymore.”
“You look a little green around the gills. You sick or something?” Logan asked, eyes narrowing and leaned closer to her, inhaling deeply.
“I’m going to be sick soon if she doesn’t stop.”
“Stop what? Who?” Logan asked, his head swivelling around in the empty kitchen.
“Jean. She’s sleeping. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it. She’s projecting quite loudly…”
“Bad dream?” Logan asked sympathetically. He knew everything there was to know about nightmares, and it pissed him up to no end, that even these ordinary, nice people had to suffer from them.
“No. Not a bad dream for her at least.”
“What? Is she doing Scooter or what?” Logan asked.
“She’s certainly doing somebody…” Marie muttered, picked up her sandwich and tossed it to the trash bin.
“Give that to me…” She hissed and snatched the beer from Logan, taking a long pull from it.
“Hey! You’re not old enough…”
“If I’m old enough to watch x-rated movie about you two boning each other senseless, I think I’m old enough to have some of your beer.”
“Whatever. Give it back. It’s not like it’s my fault…” Logan muttered taking the bottle from her.
“Not your fault? Who has been baiting Jean from the minute he saw her? Let me give you a hint. It isn’t Santa Claus or Donald Duck!”
“Baiting?”
“I know you’re interested in her. I don’t blame you. She’s a good-looking woman. But she’s married. And won’t betray Scott. No matter how badly it tickles her curiosity. And that creates tension. That tension is leaking out when she’s sleeping, and for some reason I’m able to pick it up. So could you please keep your dick in your pants and your mouth shut around Jean from now on? Just for the sake of my sanity?” Marie asked.

“Well, that was weird…” Jean yawned, pushing the door shut.
“Who was it?” Scott asked from the bed.
“Logan.”
“What did he want?” Scott asked, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand beside the bed and putting them on before sitting up.
“Told me to go and take a cold shower.”