When she drove Logan to the hospital, she questioned herself. More likely her logic. Sure she'd solved the mystery of who ripped off the poker game, but that didn't mean she and Logan were friends.
But Logan was too drunk to drive.
So here she sat, not holding Logan's hand. The plastic hard under her, digging into her ass. They hadn't resorted to reading last year's People Magazine yet.
"So," Logan broke the silence and ran his hand through his hair. "Pretty fucked up party. At least this year, he wasn't cheating on mom, exactly."
Veronica frowned and nodded. "It is Neptune." A Santa hat sat on the chair next to her, abandoned by someone. It sat alone. Her own father had called 20 minutes ago wondering where she was. "But that doesn't mean we can't have any Christmas spirit, Mr. Grinch." Veronica took the hat from the chair and placed it on Logan's head.
"Ho ho ho," he muttered and sunk back down against the wall plastered with posters about STDs and childhood immunizations. "Merry fucking Christmas, Veronica Mars."