Post by theravenmattknox on Jan 6, 2021 23:16:36 GMT -5
The 1964 Harley Davidson Panhead. The last of its kind. The throaty exhaust destroyed the serenity of the Mojave Desert as Matthew Knox flew into Las Vegas on the old bike, quietly cursing the freight he had paid to get it to Reno. And further cursing the freight to get the Jaguar there in the coming weeks. He flew down the highway like a spectre, pale and adorned in a black leather jacket, goggles and a helmet that had seen the cold war.
Riding was a rare adrenaline rush for him anymore. Baltimore didn’t lend itself to riding, especially this time of year. Being adrift in the wind at unsafe speeds, one wrong move away from being sucked up in it in a flurry of gore and fire.
Not unlike the woman he was going to visit.
He would arrive at the address provided, the fifty year old bike announcing his presence better than he ever could. Still, he could not resist being obnoxious and revving the motor a few times before coming to a stop.
Was she there- the 2012 black and red Suzuki Hayabusa suggested so, few people got around on a machine like that… less with the condition it was in. Scratched to the point that the metal underneath had become part of the artwork, a highlight instead of an eyesore between metallic gouges and flaking edges. Maybe an analogy to the redhead would have been appropriate had she not materialised in the doorway.
How she had a habit of doing that, even now it was difficult to say.
Amber Ryan was never really someone who drew a lot of attention on sight- despite the shock of scarlet hair and constantly relative expression of curious cynicism. In an industry full of women determined to either be flirty and photogenic or fucking terrifying- she'd found herself in a grey area of 'could take a nice photo if she could be bothered to smile'.
"You know, I'd be far more impressed if you weren't determined to be such an insufferable douchebag every opportunity you got."
“I much prefer the term ‘Charming and Youthful’” He retorts before killing the motor, popping out the kickstand and stepping off the bike. He takes a couple stiff steps, before squatting and trying to limber up. The ride had been long, and much more than he was used to, He approached her and for a split second had the urge to hug the red head but thought better of it.
He quite liked his nose where it was.
“You said your door was open. Figured if you were inviting me to your home, you must be some kind of lonely and miserable. So here I am, Miss Ryan.”
A chuckle escaped the redhead, the unmistakable lean and compensation of weight a reminder perhaps why it's taken so long for them to regroup. With a shake of the head, Amber disappeared inside while the sing-along quality of her mocking tone floated back behind her on the breeze.
"They also said the devil was charming, and look where that got him… one step below me."
Despite the obvious sarcasm, there was a kernel of truth to be had- one didn't earn monikers in the way she had without the luck of the devil somehow influencing matters.
"S'pose I've gotta play nice now, you're here and all."
He had followed behind her, closing the door behind them and further justifying her description of him as he left his jacket, goggles, and helmet in a pile by the door. He silently took in the look of the home. Lived in, but spartan. Not unexpected, considering who occupied it. Her last comment pulled him from his reverie and bought her a smirk.
“Well, if that’s my opportunity to push the boundaries I'll take a steak, blue rare and a wine list,” he moved to follow her, eyes casting itself to her gait, and the way she favored that ankle. The pang of guilt bit into him for a moment, and he exhaled slowly.
Best rip it off.
“We...we gonna talk about what happened? The last time we were in the same building?”
She paused, the silence between them far more deafening than it had been before. Even the wind outside, the creaks of the floorboards and the faint groans of the house as it shifted eternally around them seemed to stop- everything with a breath in their lungs holding it without really meaning to.
"Which part… cause if I'm honest, there isn't a whole lot to say on any of it. You did stuff, I did stuff. We're both terrible people and, well… Karma comes for us all."
Matthew lets out something between a chuckle, and a sigh. He shakes his head, eyes on the floor now. Every minute detail is suddenly incredibly important to him. He speaks almost in a hushed tone, the words weighted and special for him and perhaps the one other person who could sympathize.
“Hell of a thing God did, make us aware of how awful we really are, eh Red?” Had he ever called her that before? He pushed through, clearing his throat and letting out a sigh. “How’s the ankle? They give you any kind of conclusive prognosis?”
With a knowing scoff, Amber vaguely directed Knox to take a seat in the sparse living room. A large couch, barely used but somehow as well worn as everything else and a few mismatched chairs dotted the space as Amber almost coiled into one.
"Conclusive? You've spoken to doctors right… Let me put it this way, they know what's wrong with it- they just can't agree on whats gonna make it right again.
Not that it really matters I suppose- if its weight bearing, it's fair game."
As confident as her tone might have been, she'd really only been off crutches less than a week and without the boot for a little over two. A torn ligament and a couple hairline fractures they couldn't tell whether they were old or new had left her sidelined a few months now- the precise cause, potentially as ambiguous as the redheads words.
“Yeah. Probably thinking of the route to best line their pockets.” He mused, considering her once more. A nagging voice in the back of his head wondered why he had come. They weren’t friends, not in a traditional sense. They had no experience together outside of fighting. Very little common ground outside of...fighting and drinking.
And yet, he couldn’t think of more than one or two other people who he felt understood his view of the world as well as the coy, angry redhead sat across from him.
“Have you tested it? Ran the ropes? Hell, ran at all?” he asked, pulling his mind from the idle musings that he no doubt was digging too far into.
Amber raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Are you worried about me or worried about your reputation…"
This earned an honest laugh, his face breaking into a smile as he adjusts in his seat, eyeing her evenly after he inhales, quelling his own laughter.
“My rep? It’s shot anymore after I left our old employer. People think i’m just a mouthy, angry prick who picks fights and talks too much shit…” He frowns, his tone evening out to be serious “I’m worried. I care, despite myself. And admittedly, I don’t want to be known as the asshole who ended your career. Especially when we weren’t even fighting each other.”
He furrows his brow, raising a hand and wiping his face, more a tick than for any real reason.
“You’re...You’re one of the good ones. Better than most anyway. I don’t like the thought of this industry without you, your shadow, and your wrath in it.”
Leaning back a little, possibly the most relaxed she'd ever allowed herself to be in present company- Amber smiled sincerely, perhaps another first in this encounter.
"Oh honey, I've had people trying to end my career for nearly 15 years… there's nothing you can do, accidental or deliberate, that I haven't already been through…
I wouldn't worry about me, there's only one person who does and he's obligated to cause he put a ring on it."
“Worry and Obligation don’t spend near as much time together as people seem to think,” He rebutted quietly “But If you think you’re good to go, or at least not finished, I’ll do what I can to ease my troubled mind….Honey.” Yes, Matthew. Be sarcastic after the ice was broken. That’s the way.
He exhaled, slapping his hands on his knees a minute, idly staring around the room. A soft quirk of the eyebrow, before he spoke up again.
“Where is Mac, anyway? Not waiting to pop out and clothesline my head over my resignation is he?”
Without breaking her stare or relinquishing the curl in her lip, Amber surveyed Knox.
"Baltimore, finishing up some business- I imagine he'll be here in the next day or two. Besides, he needs far more provocation than you simply being a smartass and testing the waters- we believe the other is more than capable of handling their own business."
Brushing a few errant strands of red from her face, Amber's expression softened with a faint twitch.
"Which, I presume, is why you're here… always looking for a fight- or at the very least the reason for one"
“Is that what you think of me?” He asked, bowing his head and clasping his hands. He half shrugs and half smiles, “Guess I haven’t given you much reason to think otherwise. But now, I didn’t come here to fight you. I didn’t come here looking for a reason to fight. I came here…”
He trailed off, licking his lips and looking up. His face is flat, but his eyes burn with an intensity that wasn’t unusual, but was decidedly more focused than usual.
“I came here to give you a reason to fight, because you still haven’t gotten out of that fog. Even after all this time.” He swore he saw a twitch in her face, but he dare not call her on it. He was already in dangerous waters with an open wound, he didn’t want her to strike.
Yet.
“You’re here, injured and limping. Not on any card even though I know you could be. Makes me wonder, if you want to be? Makes me wonder, if you’re actually defeated?” he shook his head “I don’t think so. Can’t. Would mean everything else I saw was a lie. So, I’ll be blunt. Why aren’t you training somewhere, with that ankle wrapped in tape? Why are you just wallowing here, waiting on the most unpleasant of houseguests?”
Her lip curled further into a sickening smile- the type of curl that a hyena might wear proudly as it stalked a wounded prey, the type of curl in her lip that an alligator might be jealous of as it lay beneath still waters watching the unknowing dawdle above.
The kind of curl in her smile… that burned itself into the back of the mind as the last image they might ever see.
"You know…"
Amber cleared her throat, threateningly still, even in spite of the repeated prodding.
"If you wanted a fight… all you had to do is ask. If you wanted some one to release you from the foul curse that is your continued existance- by all means keep travelling down this road but know… you don't get to call the reaper to your doorstep. You wait for them to make time for you."
“I tried killing me, Amber.” He repeats a line he’d used millions of times now. He chuckles, leaning forward and locking eyes with her, “I couldn’t kill me. You could...the you I met in the catering area right when I returned to Carnage. But this?” he motions to her, standing up and preparing himself.
You’re helping, Matt. Right?
“You couldn’t lace your own boots right now. Hiding in the desert, ready to roll but not demanding to be on a card. I thought hurricanes were in the forecast. This? This looks like a drizzle. Not even worth putting the raincoat on.” He steps toward her once, casually nudging her coffee table to the side. His eyes stay locked with hers.
“You want to hit me. You want to bust my teeth out of my head. You want to be the problem I asked for. The issue here, though? The woman in catering I met? She’d already have her fist halfway down my throat.”
It could never be quite described the way Amber moved- a hurricane, a force of nature rolled into a 5'8 frame. Before Knox could react, she'd already closed the distance- driving her forearm into his throat and pushing him back into the wall with a heavy thud.
Despite the size difference, Amber held him firm with eyes locked- blue green steely stare straight through his soul.
"The woman this… Used to, past tense. Grow the fuck up Knox- I don't need your stupid fucking pep talk, nor do I need you to tell me what I need to do or who I've been. I've lived a thousand lives, died more times than I had any right to come back from- you trying to stoke the fire doesn't do anything except scrape coals into your eyes.
If I wanted you dead, or maimed, or anything stemming from your wildest dreams- I wouldn't need provocation sweetheart, I wouldn't wait for you to get comfortable…
I'd put you in the fucking ground before you ever hit the fucking floor."
Her words didn't raise past a hiss, a harsh whisper as her forearm dug deeper against flesh- she could feel his windpipe closing, the arteries pulsating as his heart raced.
Be careful what you wish for, be careful about the fires you dance in and the forces of nature you challenge. Amber leaned closer, about as close as she might reach.
"I don't need to knock your teeth out to send a message, or put my fist down your throat to shut you up.
Most of all sweetheart- I don't need you to tell me who the fuck I should be…"
Slowly, Amber released her forearm whilst stepping back… a second passing as the sound of Knox gasping for a first breath of freedom only to be cut off as Amber railed a left fist through the drywall next to Matt's face with a sickening crunch. Knox clears his throat, rubbing it once before straightening up.
“Didn’t break a nail did you?” He quips, because of course he did.”There she is. Full weight on the ankle, and everything.” Another cough as he meets her gaze again. He leans down, closing the distance and raising a hand to rest on the shoulder of his friend who could have murdered him.
“I’m glad I could have an impact on you. Unless this is just you still being mad you couldn’t put me away after the Rat tenderized me?” He removes the hand, leaning back against the wall, taking a moment to look at the hole. Now, Mac would be mad. Poor bastard would need to do a patch job.
“Begs the question. And I need the answer. Why aren’t you scheduled to fight? And if you are, why wasn’t I invited? I left a lot in Baltimore, but this?” he motions between them “All of this, whatever it is? Horrible as it is? It’s not one of the things I left. So I need to know, Amber. I need you to tell me, and don’t be coy. Don’t be mysterious…”
“When are we finishing this?”
Shaking off dust, drywall and a smidge of blood from her fist, Amber gives Knox a dead eyed stare- not even towards him now, but straight on through.
"You need to leave."
Knox smiles, much too genuinely for a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. He raises a hand, palm outward in defeat as he takes a step toward the door to collect his belongings. He freezes, though.
“I’ll take the non answer for now. But if you want me to quit prodding, and digging? I’ll need an actual one eventually.” A pause “I hope this all wasn’t because I was a rude guest. This...this is you. And it’s what a lot of people need.” He chuckles, looking over his shoulder at her.
“Lot of mouthy, arrogant pricks out there Amber. Worse than me. I can’t kick ‘em all in the face. Neither can Joe. Business needs you as much as it needs a reminder of who, and what you are.” one last pause “You owe me a drink, next time.”
"Go fuck yourself Knox."
Amber murmurs something unintelligible under her breath as Knox leaves the room.
"... And I don't owe you shit!"
At the sound of the front door closing obnoxiously loudly- Amber allowed herself a real breath, the stinging in her hand now radiating as the adrenaline started to slow.
Fuck that guy, Amber mused, dropping back into her chair heavily.
Maybe he wasn't wrong, but she'd never let him know that.
Not now.
Riding was a rare adrenaline rush for him anymore. Baltimore didn’t lend itself to riding, especially this time of year. Being adrift in the wind at unsafe speeds, one wrong move away from being sucked up in it in a flurry of gore and fire.
Not unlike the woman he was going to visit.
He would arrive at the address provided, the fifty year old bike announcing his presence better than he ever could. Still, he could not resist being obnoxious and revving the motor a few times before coming to a stop.
Was she there- the 2012 black and red Suzuki Hayabusa suggested so, few people got around on a machine like that… less with the condition it was in. Scratched to the point that the metal underneath had become part of the artwork, a highlight instead of an eyesore between metallic gouges and flaking edges. Maybe an analogy to the redhead would have been appropriate had she not materialised in the doorway.
How she had a habit of doing that, even now it was difficult to say.
Amber Ryan was never really someone who drew a lot of attention on sight- despite the shock of scarlet hair and constantly relative expression of curious cynicism. In an industry full of women determined to either be flirty and photogenic or fucking terrifying- she'd found herself in a grey area of 'could take a nice photo if she could be bothered to smile'.
"You know, I'd be far more impressed if you weren't determined to be such an insufferable douchebag every opportunity you got."
“I much prefer the term ‘Charming and Youthful’” He retorts before killing the motor, popping out the kickstand and stepping off the bike. He takes a couple stiff steps, before squatting and trying to limber up. The ride had been long, and much more than he was used to, He approached her and for a split second had the urge to hug the red head but thought better of it.
He quite liked his nose where it was.
“You said your door was open. Figured if you were inviting me to your home, you must be some kind of lonely and miserable. So here I am, Miss Ryan.”
A chuckle escaped the redhead, the unmistakable lean and compensation of weight a reminder perhaps why it's taken so long for them to regroup. With a shake of the head, Amber disappeared inside while the sing-along quality of her mocking tone floated back behind her on the breeze.
"They also said the devil was charming, and look where that got him… one step below me."
Despite the obvious sarcasm, there was a kernel of truth to be had- one didn't earn monikers in the way she had without the luck of the devil somehow influencing matters.
"S'pose I've gotta play nice now, you're here and all."
He had followed behind her, closing the door behind them and further justifying her description of him as he left his jacket, goggles, and helmet in a pile by the door. He silently took in the look of the home. Lived in, but spartan. Not unexpected, considering who occupied it. Her last comment pulled him from his reverie and bought her a smirk.
“Well, if that’s my opportunity to push the boundaries I'll take a steak, blue rare and a wine list,” he moved to follow her, eyes casting itself to her gait, and the way she favored that ankle. The pang of guilt bit into him for a moment, and he exhaled slowly.
Best rip it off.
“We...we gonna talk about what happened? The last time we were in the same building?”
She paused, the silence between them far more deafening than it had been before. Even the wind outside, the creaks of the floorboards and the faint groans of the house as it shifted eternally around them seemed to stop- everything with a breath in their lungs holding it without really meaning to.
"Which part… cause if I'm honest, there isn't a whole lot to say on any of it. You did stuff, I did stuff. We're both terrible people and, well… Karma comes for us all."
Matthew lets out something between a chuckle, and a sigh. He shakes his head, eyes on the floor now. Every minute detail is suddenly incredibly important to him. He speaks almost in a hushed tone, the words weighted and special for him and perhaps the one other person who could sympathize.
“Hell of a thing God did, make us aware of how awful we really are, eh Red?” Had he ever called her that before? He pushed through, clearing his throat and letting out a sigh. “How’s the ankle? They give you any kind of conclusive prognosis?”
With a knowing scoff, Amber vaguely directed Knox to take a seat in the sparse living room. A large couch, barely used but somehow as well worn as everything else and a few mismatched chairs dotted the space as Amber almost coiled into one.
"Conclusive? You've spoken to doctors right… Let me put it this way, they know what's wrong with it- they just can't agree on whats gonna make it right again.
Not that it really matters I suppose- if its weight bearing, it's fair game."
As confident as her tone might have been, she'd really only been off crutches less than a week and without the boot for a little over two. A torn ligament and a couple hairline fractures they couldn't tell whether they were old or new had left her sidelined a few months now- the precise cause, potentially as ambiguous as the redheads words.
“Yeah. Probably thinking of the route to best line their pockets.” He mused, considering her once more. A nagging voice in the back of his head wondered why he had come. They weren’t friends, not in a traditional sense. They had no experience together outside of fighting. Very little common ground outside of...fighting and drinking.
And yet, he couldn’t think of more than one or two other people who he felt understood his view of the world as well as the coy, angry redhead sat across from him.
“Have you tested it? Ran the ropes? Hell, ran at all?” he asked, pulling his mind from the idle musings that he no doubt was digging too far into.
Amber raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Are you worried about me or worried about your reputation…"
This earned an honest laugh, his face breaking into a smile as he adjusts in his seat, eyeing her evenly after he inhales, quelling his own laughter.
“My rep? It’s shot anymore after I left our old employer. People think i’m just a mouthy, angry prick who picks fights and talks too much shit…” He frowns, his tone evening out to be serious “I’m worried. I care, despite myself. And admittedly, I don’t want to be known as the asshole who ended your career. Especially when we weren’t even fighting each other.”
He furrows his brow, raising a hand and wiping his face, more a tick than for any real reason.
“You’re...You’re one of the good ones. Better than most anyway. I don’t like the thought of this industry without you, your shadow, and your wrath in it.”
Leaning back a little, possibly the most relaxed she'd ever allowed herself to be in present company- Amber smiled sincerely, perhaps another first in this encounter.
"Oh honey, I've had people trying to end my career for nearly 15 years… there's nothing you can do, accidental or deliberate, that I haven't already been through…
I wouldn't worry about me, there's only one person who does and he's obligated to cause he put a ring on it."
“Worry and Obligation don’t spend near as much time together as people seem to think,” He rebutted quietly “But If you think you’re good to go, or at least not finished, I’ll do what I can to ease my troubled mind….Honey.” Yes, Matthew. Be sarcastic after the ice was broken. That’s the way.
He exhaled, slapping his hands on his knees a minute, idly staring around the room. A soft quirk of the eyebrow, before he spoke up again.
“Where is Mac, anyway? Not waiting to pop out and clothesline my head over my resignation is he?”
Without breaking her stare or relinquishing the curl in her lip, Amber surveyed Knox.
"Baltimore, finishing up some business- I imagine he'll be here in the next day or two. Besides, he needs far more provocation than you simply being a smartass and testing the waters- we believe the other is more than capable of handling their own business."
Brushing a few errant strands of red from her face, Amber's expression softened with a faint twitch.
"Which, I presume, is why you're here… always looking for a fight- or at the very least the reason for one"
“Is that what you think of me?” He asked, bowing his head and clasping his hands. He half shrugs and half smiles, “Guess I haven’t given you much reason to think otherwise. But now, I didn’t come here to fight you. I didn’t come here looking for a reason to fight. I came here…”
He trailed off, licking his lips and looking up. His face is flat, but his eyes burn with an intensity that wasn’t unusual, but was decidedly more focused than usual.
“I came here to give you a reason to fight, because you still haven’t gotten out of that fog. Even after all this time.” He swore he saw a twitch in her face, but he dare not call her on it. He was already in dangerous waters with an open wound, he didn’t want her to strike.
Yet.
“You’re here, injured and limping. Not on any card even though I know you could be. Makes me wonder, if you want to be? Makes me wonder, if you’re actually defeated?” he shook his head “I don’t think so. Can’t. Would mean everything else I saw was a lie. So, I’ll be blunt. Why aren’t you training somewhere, with that ankle wrapped in tape? Why are you just wallowing here, waiting on the most unpleasant of houseguests?”
Her lip curled further into a sickening smile- the type of curl that a hyena might wear proudly as it stalked a wounded prey, the type of curl in her lip that an alligator might be jealous of as it lay beneath still waters watching the unknowing dawdle above.
The kind of curl in her smile… that burned itself into the back of the mind as the last image they might ever see.
"You know…"
Amber cleared her throat, threateningly still, even in spite of the repeated prodding.
"If you wanted a fight… all you had to do is ask. If you wanted some one to release you from the foul curse that is your continued existance- by all means keep travelling down this road but know… you don't get to call the reaper to your doorstep. You wait for them to make time for you."
“I tried killing me, Amber.” He repeats a line he’d used millions of times now. He chuckles, leaning forward and locking eyes with her, “I couldn’t kill me. You could...the you I met in the catering area right when I returned to Carnage. But this?” he motions to her, standing up and preparing himself.
You’re helping, Matt. Right?
“You couldn’t lace your own boots right now. Hiding in the desert, ready to roll but not demanding to be on a card. I thought hurricanes were in the forecast. This? This looks like a drizzle. Not even worth putting the raincoat on.” He steps toward her once, casually nudging her coffee table to the side. His eyes stay locked with hers.
“You want to hit me. You want to bust my teeth out of my head. You want to be the problem I asked for. The issue here, though? The woman in catering I met? She’d already have her fist halfway down my throat.”
It could never be quite described the way Amber moved- a hurricane, a force of nature rolled into a 5'8 frame. Before Knox could react, she'd already closed the distance- driving her forearm into his throat and pushing him back into the wall with a heavy thud.
Despite the size difference, Amber held him firm with eyes locked- blue green steely stare straight through his soul.
"The woman this… Used to, past tense. Grow the fuck up Knox- I don't need your stupid fucking pep talk, nor do I need you to tell me what I need to do or who I've been. I've lived a thousand lives, died more times than I had any right to come back from- you trying to stoke the fire doesn't do anything except scrape coals into your eyes.
If I wanted you dead, or maimed, or anything stemming from your wildest dreams- I wouldn't need provocation sweetheart, I wouldn't wait for you to get comfortable…
I'd put you in the fucking ground before you ever hit the fucking floor."
Her words didn't raise past a hiss, a harsh whisper as her forearm dug deeper against flesh- she could feel his windpipe closing, the arteries pulsating as his heart raced.
Be careful what you wish for, be careful about the fires you dance in and the forces of nature you challenge. Amber leaned closer, about as close as she might reach.
"I don't need to knock your teeth out to send a message, or put my fist down your throat to shut you up.
Most of all sweetheart- I don't need you to tell me who the fuck I should be…"
Slowly, Amber released her forearm whilst stepping back… a second passing as the sound of Knox gasping for a first breath of freedom only to be cut off as Amber railed a left fist through the drywall next to Matt's face with a sickening crunch. Knox clears his throat, rubbing it once before straightening up.
“Didn’t break a nail did you?” He quips, because of course he did.”There she is. Full weight on the ankle, and everything.” Another cough as he meets her gaze again. He leans down, closing the distance and raising a hand to rest on the shoulder of his friend who could have murdered him.
“I’m glad I could have an impact on you. Unless this is just you still being mad you couldn’t put me away after the Rat tenderized me?” He removes the hand, leaning back against the wall, taking a moment to look at the hole. Now, Mac would be mad. Poor bastard would need to do a patch job.
“Begs the question. And I need the answer. Why aren’t you scheduled to fight? And if you are, why wasn’t I invited? I left a lot in Baltimore, but this?” he motions between them “All of this, whatever it is? Horrible as it is? It’s not one of the things I left. So I need to know, Amber. I need you to tell me, and don’t be coy. Don’t be mysterious…”
“When are we finishing this?”
Shaking off dust, drywall and a smidge of blood from her fist, Amber gives Knox a dead eyed stare- not even towards him now, but straight on through.
"You need to leave."
Knox smiles, much too genuinely for a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. He raises a hand, palm outward in defeat as he takes a step toward the door to collect his belongings. He freezes, though.
“I’ll take the non answer for now. But if you want me to quit prodding, and digging? I’ll need an actual one eventually.” A pause “I hope this all wasn’t because I was a rude guest. This...this is you. And it’s what a lot of people need.” He chuckles, looking over his shoulder at her.
“Lot of mouthy, arrogant pricks out there Amber. Worse than me. I can’t kick ‘em all in the face. Neither can Joe. Business needs you as much as it needs a reminder of who, and what you are.” one last pause “You owe me a drink, next time.”
"Go fuck yourself Knox."
Amber murmurs something unintelligible under her breath as Knox leaves the room.
"... And I don't owe you shit!"
At the sound of the front door closing obnoxiously loudly- Amber allowed herself a real breath, the stinging in her hand now radiating as the adrenaline started to slow.
Fuck that guy, Amber mused, dropping back into her chair heavily.
Maybe he wasn't wrong, but she'd never let him know that.
Not now.