#but if you were wondering Whiskey's actual thought process there: here you go 🤗

[loversandantiheroes]

I cannot paste so many words: But I wanted the DVD commentary on the part in Hotel Hobbies where Whiskey stands in the doorway and admires her in the bed >> The door opens and Whiskey stands there for a moment, an outline in black against the lit hallway. A disheveled version of those black painted plywood silhouettes that always seem to lean up against flea markets and roadside stands in the middle of nowhere. His face is shadowed, but you can feel his eyes on you. >>>> THIS explain yourself

I mean what can I say? I'm a slut for love at first bone.

Wait, no, okay, let's be more objective.

I think I've mentioned before that Hotel Hobbies wasn't meant to be a series. This was gonna be just a little one-off (well, two-off considering the prelude) where Whiskey got his dick handed to him like he very much deserved. But the very first comment I got on AO3 was something about how Whiskey probably got his own back the next night, and that set the wheels turning in my head. I'd already considered doing a very self-indulgent fic with Whiskey meeting the reader at the bar and bonding a bit over shared losses and bad anniversaries, and I think this where the first of that idea started to bleed over into this fic.

'Cause the thing is I feel like Whiskey's clearly set up to be the quintessential ladykiller, but not the sort that's leaving a string of broken hearts. He's just looking to scratch an itch and I think he's pretty clear on that most times. All's fair, as long as nobody gets hurt. He'll talk a big game, sure, but he won't string anybody along because he's never looking for a repeat.

But then he meets this girl who just knocks him on his ass and he's asking for seconds before he even remembers what his name is. I danced around the idea of showing this moment from Whiskey's perspective in chapter 3, which I ultimately panned, apart from a very small nod to it when he's accidentally eavesdropping.

The reasoning being he's gotten pretty good at compartmentalizing in some of the worst possible ways, so the second he stops, looking back at the women that wrecked him spread out naked and half-asleep in a rumpled bed - the bed where he'd just caught some of the soundest sleep he's had in years lying next to her - he's absolutely caught. He wants a next time. He wants a dozen next times. Hell, he wants to call Ginger and tell her to send somebody else to pick up his light work because he's got better things to do and she's right there lying in front of him without a stitch on and he does not want to leave.