[-----]
Margaret frowned. "This is a very strange shade of nail polish."
Ginger stared across the pastel green Formica table, the happy sounds
of crunching lettuce disappearing as she froze in confusion. "Huh?"
she asked, starting to chew once more.
Putting her fork down, Margaret gazed at her nails and said, "In this
light, it's a strange shade. Why'd I put it on?"
"Lighting was different?" Ginger offered, shrugging. She went back
to her salad, only to stop again when she saw that Margaret was still
preoccupied by her fingernails. "Here," she sighed, grabbing
Margaret's hand and pulling it towards her; Margaret was yanked out
of her seat and slammed against the edge of the table with an "oof."
"That kinda hurts," Margaret absently said, still looking at her
fingernails.
Ginger paid no attention to Margaret, and simply said, "That really
is a bizarre shade. Where'd you get it?"
"Dunno." Frowning some more, she said, "Rite Aid?"
"You put it on this morning?" Margaret nodded, and Ginger said, "It
didn't look like this this morning."
"It's the light, I think. It was darker this morning."
"And yellower," Ginger added. "We're under fluorescents here."
Meanwhile, Sam had been making his way down to the Mess hall to get
Ginger, his head buried in a briefing book. Out of the corner of his
eye, he saw her at a corner booth. "Ginger, I-"
He looked up and stopped short at the sight: Margaret, half sprawled
across the table with her hand in Ginger's, their faces ominously
close. "What, just - what's going on here?"
"The nail polish," Margaret muttered, only half-paying attention
to
Sam. "There's something peculiar about the nail polish."
Ginger regarded her with amusement. "Did you just say, 'peculiar'?"
Margaret shrugged indifferently.
Sam stepped closer to the table, intent on finding out what was so
peculiar about the nail polish. "What's so-"
"You're blocking the light," Margaret snapped, and Sam knew enough
to
move out of the way. "Fluorescents make things less yellow?"
"This was a totally different shade when we got up this morning,"
Ginger said.
"Doesn't it turn a different shade after it dries?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, but the bottle has the color on it, and besides, she put it on
last night," Ginger answered.
Sam watched them stare at Margaret's nails for a moment
longer. "Wait, you two are roommates?"
Both women glanced up at him, wondering what he was talking about.
"I didn't know you were roommates," he added with an innocuous
smile. "You know, Josh and I were roommates when the President first
got elected. I mean, I could afford my own place, but it was easier
to - what?"
"What makes you think we're roommates?" Margaret asked, a frown of
confusion on her face.
"Ginger said, 'when we got up' - I mean, you know, she was saying
when the two of you got up," he said with that same Sammish
smile. "So, it's just, you know, nice. That you two share a place."
"It's-" Margaret stared at him for a moment. "You think it's
like a
porno, don't you?"
A blush crept to his cheeks, and he said, "I do not."
"I know you, Sam," Ginger chimed in. "You really do think it's
like
a porno, don't you?"
"I - you know, in my defense, you two were the ones to mention
pornos," he mumbled.
"Well, it's really nothing like pornos," Margaret stated, turning
her
attention back to her nails.
Sam shuffled his feet, looking appropriately chastened. "Well, I'm
sorry if-"
"We have less sex with men," Ginger added, also turning back to
Margaret's nails. "Like, none, really."
For a moment, Sam was silent, and Ginger looked up in slight
concern. She could almost see the cogs in Sam's head screeching to a
complete stop. "Sam? You there, buddy?"
"You mean that you two . . ."
"Yeah."
"Well," he began, and all innocence was gone from his face and
voice. "That's really nothing at all like how Josh and I roomed."
"So you two had no sex with women?" Margaret deadpanned.
Sam stared at her for a moment, thrown by her question. Then: "As a
matter of fact, yes." He arched an eyebrow in triumph and walked
away.
Margaret watched in confusion as he walked away. "Didn't he want
something from you?"
"I thought he did," Ginger said with a shrug. "Eh."
They continued to watch Margaret's nails.
-end-