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After a few intense moments on both beds, Eve and I retreat to the bathroom together for a much-needed shower, where we end up making love again. I hold her close, admiring her smooth skin and sloping curves while steam billows around us.

"Why did we wait so long?" I ask. "Why did it take a backdrop of utter insanity to bring us together?"

Eve steps away from me and turns off the water. She wraps a towel around herself with a sigh. "You were so young and I was obsessed with my career for so long...and then Steven just walked into my life. Now, the world is ending. I don't know—maybe our timing is forever doomed."

"Fuck timing. If everything's awkward and harrowing forever I don't care, as long as you're with me." I want to say more but I know I can't. Queen Suzerain and Jesus could be listening. "Fuck Santa Claus, too," I mutter.

"What?" asks Eve.

"Oh, nothing."

We step out of the bathroom and find the new clothes we requested from the hotel's concierge service sitting on the bed. I'm not exactly thrilled with the pink polo shirt and khakis, but at least they don't smell like cow shit and raccoon piss. Eve looks great in a navy-blue, spaghetti strapped top and black crop pants.

"I wish they could have brought us something more utilitarian or tactical, but this will have to do," says Eve. "At least I have pants now." She slides on her shoes. "I had to practically beg the concierge to find me a pair of flats. I can't be battling vampires in six-inch heels."

"Might be useful if the heels were made of hardwood," I say, slipping on some leather oxfords.

"True. You ready to meet this friend of Jesus?"

"No, but let's go. How far away is the Bellagio?"

"Only about a quarter-mile."

"Do we have time for a game of blackjack?"

Eve scowls at me. "No. I'm betting there's a slot machine in the elevator, though."

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