Better Days Than This -Open-

[Charlotte Lewis]

She sat at the corner of the bar, staring at her half empty glass wiht a blank expression. She was trying her best to keep all attention away from herself, so she sat alone and silently, just thinking. She had fought with her hair for several hours, but had finally gotten the firey curls to straighten, to where the straight strands fell just past her shoulders. She had considered dying it, black of course, but had changed her mind.

Charlotte Lewis wasn't in the greatest of moods as she shifted in her seat slightly, frowning as her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She ignored it, not wanting to talk to the person she knew would be on the other end. Said person was half the reason why she was pissed. The other being because she couldn't make up her mind about going back to England or not. Resting her chin in her hand, her thoughts swirled around in her head, not making any sense at the moment. Now she knew how Dan felt sometimes.

Taking another drink of her White Russian, she set the glass down gently, her eyes scanning the bar for any sign of someone familiar from either the Freighter, or maybe one of the survivors. Of course, she didn't expect anyone to be there, but it never hurt to look. Her cell phone vibrated again in her pocket. With a sigh she pulled the shiny silver thing out, shutting it off and placing it on the bar next to her drink. She really was having a horrible day.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

It had only taken them a day to infiltrate the Roosevelt and start hounding the patrons at the hotel bar. Damn media, nobody ever got a break. Sawyer was sick of hearing about their ‘miraculous return’, and even sicker of the shit they were reporting about Kate. He knew what she had done now, why the Marshall had been after her, and if he had been in the same situation he would have done the same thing. Hell, he wished he had known her back then; he would have killed the bastard himself.

The news reports, though, couldn’t seem to make up their mind. One channel painted her as a martyr, saving her mother from an abusive marriage, then risking her life at every turn for those of her fellow survivors, while the next called her a murderer; a cold, calculated, selfish woman who only did what it took to protect herself, to hell with everyone else. He hadn’t even bothered to check the papers.

One thing was for sure: the next person who flashed a camera in his face was going to end up eating the damn thing, along with most of their teeth.

Managing to get far enough away from the hotspot that was the hotel, Sawyer had found a bar and managed to get through the door without being recognised. Looking around the room, he found the crowd to be fairly disinterested and sparse. His eyes falling on an empty stool at the bar, he was soon distracted by a very attractive red head, or at least she looked to be from the back. Maybe that was exactly what he needed. A very attractive distraction. Noting the phone sitting beside her glass, he sidled up to the bar.

“Now I can’t believe someone would stand you up,” the southern man drawled, seating himself next to the woman, though still not getting a good look at her face. “Waitin’ on an important call?”

[Charlotte Lewis]

Charlotte had been about to get up to leave when the voice behind her sounded. She frowned slightly, brushing red strands of hair off her shoulders.

"No one stood me up. I'm here because I needed a drink." She stated, glancing from the corner of her eye. The only thing she could see was a crop of shaggy blonde hair. As he mentioned the call, she glanced at her cell phone on the table. "Trying to get someone to stop calling me, actually." Charlotte replied, twirling the phone on the counter with her finger. She was still trying to think of where she knew that southern drawl from. She just couldn't place a name or a face, but she knew the voice.

After a moment, she turned on her stool and faced him. She blinked at him a brief moment. "You." She stated after looking at him for a moment, sill unable to come up with a name. She hadn't bothered to 'get-to-know' the survivors on the Freighter, but she knew his face and he was one of them. "Shouldn't you be running from the bloody reporters or something then?

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Hearing the accented voice, the first thing Sawyer noticed was that it was very sexy in a stuck up, domineering way. The second was that it was somewhat familiar. It wasn’t until she turned to him and spoke, obviously recognising him, that he tilted his head in her direction and took a good look at her face. The hair was much more tamed, but it didn’t take long to click in that she was the chick from the freighter, their second hostage on the way to New Otherton. Although much more pleasing to look at than the king of the island, he didn’t trust her any further.

“Whaddya think I’m doin’ here,” he replied. “All that runnin’ made me thirsty.”

Signalling the bartender, he ordered a beer. Keep it light for now, save the hard stuff for later. The minibar was restocked, and he’d hit the liquor store on the way back to the hotel.

[Charlotte Lewis]

"Maybe you should lie low for a bit or something." She suggested, taking a drink of the White Russian in front of her. Tapping her fingers against the counter subconsiously, she glanced back at him. She wasn't exactly on good terms with him, considering he had been one of the ones who had held her hostage on the island, and nearly gotten her killed.

"Technically, aren't you on run from the law?" Charlotte asked after a moment, draining the rest of her glass. She pushed the empty glass away, ordering another one from the passing bartender. "How's life as a celebrity, by the way? I've been meaning to ask one of you."

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Lie low? Wasn’t avoiding reporters and holing up in some bar to drink alone considered lying low? Nobody had to know he had intended to pick anyone up while here. His initial target had pretty much destroyed any desire for that notion right quick.

“What am I spose ta do, hide out in my hotel room for a few weeks, hopin’ tha circus outside dies down?” Sawyer shot back, taking a long draught off his beer. A few days wouldn’t be bad, he could catch up on some television, maybe read a few books, but soon enough he would go stir crazy. All that fresh, open air of the Island had offered freedom, and soon that hotel room wouldn’t feel much different than a jail cell. Speaking of which, she just had to bring that up, didn’t she?

“Technically, no I ain’t,” he sniped. “They’re just lookin’ for somethin’ ta pin on me. I played the good boy, I got on that plane when they told me ta get outta their country, and look where that landed me.”

Someplace he wished he still was.

“What’s tha matter? Feelin’ a little left out of all tha hubbub, sweetheart?” Life of a celebrity? Like hell. This was the last thing he needed. He knew what would happen: every aspect of his life would be dug up and plastered all over every newspaper and television station for the whole world to see. Everything from his time spent in the slammer to his parent’s death. The latter was something he had never allowed himself to move on from, but that didn’t mean he was ready to have it all thrown back in his face again.

Nor that he was ready for everyone to know about it. Kate knowing had been bad enough. Locke knowing had been too much. Everyone knowing? That would be down right unbearable.

[Charlotte Lewis]

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I meant. It's what I'd like to do." She muttered. She had been too busy watchingher back for any sign of Widmore's men, or even one of Linus' men. She would have preferred just to stay on the Island. It was better than where she sat now.

“Well, you still killed a man. That's bloody well something." She stated, rolling her eyes. "And it wasn't like you knew the plane would crash on some Godforsaken island with polar bears and smoke monsters." Charlotte told him.

Charlotte snorted.

"Left out? I think not. I prefer the quiet life instead of being stalked by reporters everwhere." It was the truth. Several reporters would already have a bloody nose if it was her being followed around. Thankfully, she was able to keep to herself and away from the cameras. "You just better hope they don't dig into your background and get anything and everything they can."

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

It sure sounded like someone was jealous that they didn’t get a fancy hotel room to kick it in. Grinning smugly at her a moment, he turned his face back to the rows of bottles behind the bar as he took another drink.

A drink he almost spit out at her next statement.

Well, you still killed a man.

How did she know that? How did she know about Frank Duckett? Nobody knew about him except Hibbs. Nobody knew. Nobody knew about Frank, or that bastard ‘Tom Sawyer’ or Anthony Cooper or whoever the hell he was. There was no way she knew. She was just baiting him. Unless she had meant ol’ Zeke back at the beach. It was highly possible she had heard about the fact that Sawyer had shot the man after he had surrendered. She knew about the polar bears and the monster, so why not how the Others had died. It was the only explanation. Those other murders... she couldn’t know.

“They killed our people, were gonna kill us all if they had tha chance. He got what he deserved,” he snarled, through a dark, threatening look in Charlotte’s direction. “And I think they got enough ta keep their papers sellin’ with their own little fugitive, and a miracle birth ta worry ‘bout little ol’ me.”

[Charlotte Lewis]

Charlotte smirked.

"The people you referred to as 'the Others' were the ones we were there for, so we could have killed them ourselves if you lot would have just stayed out of our way. Then you could have gone living on your happy little lives on the Magic Island." She said, swirling the liquid in her glass. "A lot of people get what they deserve, but from how I heard it, he surrendered. Usually you don't shoot after they surrender. It's the whole point."

She looked back over at him, pointedly ignoring his dark glare in her direction. Of course she knew about Frank and Anthony. She knew everything there was to know about each and every single person that was or had been on that island. It had been her job to know, but never tell. Another smirk crossed her lips. She considered telling him for a moment, but her mouth remained shut. Charlotte would save that for later.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Sawyer’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked over at the smirking redhead.

“Then maybe y’all shoulda called ahead and let us know you were comin’. Woulda saved us a bunch’a trouble,” he replied, taking an extra long drink of his beer. Of all the company he could have ended up with here, he would have taken almost anyone over this manipulative bitch. He couldn’t stand the way she kept smirking at him like she knew everything, and that nothing ever bothered her. Everyone had their weaknesses, he just had to find hers.

“I didn’t believe him,” he continued with a shrug, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. “And just ‘cause he surrendered didn’t mean he didn’t deserve it.”

[Charlotte Lewis]

"And you shouldn't have killed Naomi because, that was what she was basically there to do. But no." Charlotte stated. "She ended up with a knife in her back because of one of your people."

She cocked her head at him. He looked agitated, almost angry at her. She loved how she could do that to someone. Except Dan. She never really made him mad, other people made her mad when it came to him. She rolled her eyes at Sawyer.

"Of course you didn't. I think you have trust issues with people." Charlotte said, resting her chin in her hand. "But what did he do to deserve it.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

“If she’da told us that in tha first place, instead’a claimin’ ta be there ta save us, maybe she wouldn’t have ended up with that knife in her back,” Sawyer returned. He didn’t like how she seemed to be comparing them to those bastards back on the island. All they were trying to do for three months was survive, and suddenly she was making them sound like the bad guys.

“Oh, ya think I got trust issues? Well thank you Dr. Phyllis,” the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice. “And if ya mean besides holdin’ one’a us at gun point, kidnappin’ tha kid, blowin’ up our raft an’ leavin’ us ta drown, lockin’ us up in cages an’ invadin’ our camp ta shoot us all, then hell, he didn’t do nothin’.”

[Charlotte Lewis]

Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

"She did tell you, because she tried to call the Freighter. We were going to rescue you lot, but we hadn't initially planned for all of you to be alive." She stated, crossing her arms. Catching Benjamin Linus had been their top priority, their second be to study the island. They had only expected maybe eight to be alive, but not all, or at least, most of the fifty two passengers.

“So you're saying he was just as big as a criminal than you were then?" She asked, raising an eyebrow as she took another drink. She was getting a bit pissed now, and it reminded her of way she usually didn't speak with a lot of people.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Slamming his bottle down on the bar, Sawyer turned his stool to face Charlotte fully. There was that fiery red head temper flaring up; too bad he was too pissed himself to enjoy it.

“No, she told us she was there specifically ta save us, that Braveheart’s girlfriend sent tha boat. Too bad she knew nothin’ about it,” Sawyer explained in a slow, irritated tone. Not Penny’s Boat. Those had been Charlie’s dying words. That Naomi had been lying to them all along, but what Sawyer didn’t know was why. They had been taken off the Island too soon to really figure it all out. If it had all been about Ben, or money, why lie to them? There was something much deeper going on.

“And I ain’t denyin’ I’m a criminal, but I ain’t nothin’ like him.” Anger. Hatred. Both strong, both directed outward... as well as inward.

[Charlotte Lewis]

She raised an eyebrow as he slammed his bottle down, turning to face her. Smirking slightly, she turned her stool as well to face him fully, blinking at him with a blank look as he spoke. She let out a laugh.

“Penelope Widmore isn't smart enough to know exactly where the island is, little own her father would never let her search for that deadbeat man she calls a boyfriend." Charlotte said, tapping her fingers on the counter out of irratance. "And like I said. There was only supposed to be about eight of you alive. Widmore said we could rescue you, kill you, whatever the hell we wanted as long as we got Benjamin Linus and the coordinates for the island."

Her pale blue eyes had narrowed as she looked at Sawyer, brushing hair off her shoulder in frustration. Her gaze did not break from the Southern man's eyes. "Criminals are all the same anymore."