It was one night.

Or so Jason had been telling himself for the past week. He felt like a jackass. He'd gotten drunk and just so happened to find you, behind a bar and looking like you'd never been more high in your life. One thing led to another, and then the two of you had ended up in some shitty motel. You'd left in the morning before he woke up, which almost reassured him somewhat, because then he could at least make a half-assed attempt at convincing himself it was a dream, and that he really didn't just sleep with a Rogue.

Now he's chasing you down, a week later after you've robbed yet another bank. You're pinned to a wall, his knee making sure you can't move as he oh-so-graciously presses his handgun to your temple. "You're lucky I don't fill you with lead right now." You're almost tempted to make a crude joke, but inevitably you know he probably would stay true to his word.