He still had to work, not much not often but enough to have a little extra cash flow and even more important to keep his name out there. Gigs didn't just fall out of the sky you know. Ambrose had spent most of the evening working on some new music the studio had sent over. It wasn't too bad, and he had enjoyed the feel. It would mean about a week in New York once he signed on and he didn't relish that idea, he'd gotten far too used to having Belle with him.
New stuff out of the way and Ysabel in his thoughts Ambrose went through a series of songs, some blues, some rock but all made him think of her in one way or another. Out of consideration for him neighbors in the Manor none was played loudly, he kept the amp down. The last one he wasn't sure why he associated with Belle, but he did, very clearly and even sang along with it.
He heard the door open and her quite footsteps were unmistakable, at least to him. Still Ambrose didn't look up, he did raise the volume of his singing a bit so she could catch some of the lyrics. Belle had come in at the beginning so he figured she might as well get her money's worth.
When he looked up, she was there to greet him. Forcing himself to be satisfied with the light kiss Ambrose half smiled.
"The Unforgiven II. I didn't think you'd be a Metallica fan."Â?
Porcupines for Beginners: Needling Just Right! (attn:Ambrose)
Lazy nights were getting to be a favorite of Ysabel's. She'd finished her few hours of tour guiding and had walked back to Heolfor in spite of Ambrose's offer to pick her up. She liked the evening stroll, and it had given her the opportunity to waylay a tourist for some chatting and biting.
In this case, it had also offered the opportunity to reflect on something the other night at the club, and her question about why Ambrose wasn't a huntsman. She'd wanted to ask then and there, out of curiosity, but she tried not to pry in public. It bothered her a little, though, that Ambrose seemed so intent on not belonging when it seemed clear, at least to her, that her lover was well-suited to such a role.
At first she hemmed and hawed over it, not wanting to be disagreeable, not wanting to be pushy, but then she'd tried to look at it from a different angle. Wasn't it her role as a member of the Rose to help guide her younger clanmates? And Ambrose did fall into that category, lover or not.
It preoccupied her thoughts and made the walk home go much faster. Ysabel had planned to go to her own suite first, but she had a standing invite to Ambrose's place as well, and was spending more and more time there. He was expecting her tonight, anyway.
Turning her feet in that direction instead, she found herself outside Ambrose's rooms instead of hers. A tap at the door produced no result, but she discovered the reason as she pressed her ear to it and heard the guitar playing inside. Testing the handle, she found it unlocked. The lights were, thankfully, dim throughout the living room, brighter over by the table in the dining room where Ambrose sat, guitar in his hands, lips moving as he sang along softly to whatever it was he was playing. Ysabel didn't recognize it.
It was his habit to play through uninterrupted, so she tiptoed in and closed the door very softly behind her. She waited, leaning against the arm of the couch, until he was finished, and then leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"Beautiful. What was it?"
Ambrose
17 years ago
Ysabel
17 years ago
"Metallica? That's what that was?" Ysabel was unfamiliar with them, having heard very little. "That didn't really sound too... metal-ish."
She leaned against the (hopefully very) sturdy new dining room table and peered at the music. "I wouldn't say I'm a fan..." Her voice trailed off absently as she read the chord progressions, the fingers on her left hand idly tapping the table as she mentally played the chords on a keyboard. "It seems... somewhat straightforward."
Looking up at Ambrose she smiled. "Modern music is so different to what I'm used to." There were none of the flowing lines of chords and melodies; no longer was the paper so thick with notation it seemed nearly black. No, Ambrose could read and play his guitar with nothing but a written list of chords and a key signature. Fascinating.
She leaned against the (hopefully very) sturdy new dining room table and peered at the music. "I wouldn't say I'm a fan..." Her voice trailed off absently as she read the chord progressions, the fingers on her left hand idly tapping the table as she mentally played the chords on a keyboard. "It seems... somewhat straightforward."
Looking up at Ambrose she smiled. "Modern music is so different to what I'm used to." There were none of the flowing lines of chords and melodies; no longer was the paper so thick with notation it seemed nearly black. No, Ambrose could read and play his guitar with nothing but a written list of chords and a key signature. Fascinating.
Ambrose
17 years ago
“I’ll let you judge when you’ve heard it played properly and not by just me trying to be a good neighbor.”
He watched with amusement as she absently ‘played’ the music. Belle always protested she only had skill not talent, but she did love music.
He didn’t take offense to the music being called straightforward, it was. It could be enhanced and elaborated on but it always stayed straight forward.
”I could teach you some of it, you might like it.”
There were one or two CDs he had that might appeal to her and he sure as hell had the sheet music around.
He watched with amusement as she absently ‘played’ the music. Belle always protested she only had skill not talent, but she did love music.
He didn’t take offense to the music being called straightforward, it was. It could be enhanced and elaborated on but it always stayed straight forward.
”I could teach you some of it, you might like it.”
There were one or two CDs he had that might appeal to her and he sure as hell had the sheet music around.
Ysabel
17 years ago
Ysabel chuckled at Ambrose, fairly certain she'd prefer the 'good neighbor' version but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"We can try it sometime," she said when he offered to teach her how to play it. She'd never really considered playing anything like what Ambrose made a living playing, but she really was learning to like jazz and blues, and she might end up adding metallica to the list if Ambrose played it like that for her.
She glanced back down at the music. Well, if they were on the topic of lessons...
"Ambrose," she said offhandedly, "why is it you're not part of an Order?"
"We can try it sometime," she said when he offered to teach her how to play it. She'd never really considered playing anything like what Ambrose made a living playing, but she really was learning to like jazz and blues, and she might end up adding metallica to the list if Ambrose played it like that for her.
She glanced back down at the music. Well, if they were on the topic of lessons...
"Ambrose," she said offhandedly, "why is it you're not part of an Order?"
Ambrose
17 years ago
He smiled at the idea of teaching her some Metallica and pondered how far he could get with Rob Zombie. That question though… his smile died on his face and several expressions, emotions and reactions warred within him for a second. That question he considered off limits, in the extreme.
It was OK to abuse the furniture but his guitar got set down carefully before, scowling, he snatched up his cane and limped towards the sofa.
“I would have thought that was obvious. I don’t quite fit, do I?”
He might have done OK in either The Night or The Rose but his heart didn’t lay there. The idea of spending hours devoted to something that he didn’t really enjoy was terrible. He’d have been better off dying all those years ago that just getting by. And his lack of passion for them would have been a disservice to the clan as well.
It was OK to abuse the furniture but his guitar got set down carefully before, scowling, he snatched up his cane and limped towards the sofa.
“I would have thought that was obvious. I don’t quite fit, do I?”
He might have done OK in either The Night or The Rose but his heart didn’t lay there. The idea of spending hours devoted to something that he didn’t really enjoy was terrible. He’d have been better off dying all those years ago that just getting by. And his lack of passion for them would have been a disservice to the clan as well.
Ysabel
17 years ago
Ysabel watched Ambrose carefully, almost lovingly, set the guitar down and limp his way into the living room. She followed him quietly, a very faint smile on her face at his surliness. She had expected no less, broaching a topic she knew was sensitive to him.
"You don't fit? You're a vampire," she held up one finger. "You're Anantya," she held up another. "And you have the passion and the skills the Order of the Hunt looks for."
Ysabel perched delicately on the arm of the sofa. "I know I'm older and perhaps not as sharp as I used to be, but I would have thought that made you a very good fit."
"You don't fit? You're a vampire," she held up one finger. "You're Anantya," she held up another. "And you have the passion and the skills the Order of the Hunt looks for."
Ysabel perched delicately on the arm of the sofa. "I know I'm older and perhaps not as sharp as I used to be, but I would have thought that made you a very good fit."
Ambrose
17 years ago
“Damned it Belle.”
He didn’t shout it was a low rumbling growl.
It wasn’t that easy and she knew that, she’d seen that.
Not wanting to be followed just now, he headed for the kitchen and poured a rather large whiskey, which he promptly downed. He poured another but didn’t drink this one, he just glowered at it. He had two of the three down she was right but he couldn’t believe the last one.
“Had them… I can’t move they way I used to. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
To emphasize his point he rapped his cane against his prosthetic leg, even under his jean it have a relatively metallic sound.
He didn’t shout it was a low rumbling growl.
It wasn’t that easy and she knew that, she’d seen that.
Not wanting to be followed just now, he headed for the kitchen and poured a rather large whiskey, which he promptly downed. He poured another but didn’t drink this one, he just glowered at it. He had two of the three down she was right but he couldn’t believe the last one.
“Had them… I can’t move they way I used to. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
To emphasize his point he rapped his cane against his prosthetic leg, even under his jean it have a relatively metallic sound.
Ysabel
17 years ago
Ysabel shifted on the arm of the sofa, holding the hem of her voluminous skirt out of the way as she did so, observing Ambrose placidly.
"I wasn't aware that the requirements for Huntsmen included being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound," she said, her voice growing even more mild, perhaps subconsciously countering the venom in his.
"Are you telling me that your skills, as they are, are worthless? That you cannot throw a punch, or shoot a gun, that you don't know the signs when someone else is about to do so?"
"I wasn't aware that the requirements for Huntsmen included being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound," she said, her voice growing even more mild, perhaps subconsciously countering the venom in his.
"Are you telling me that your skills, as they are, are worthless? That you cannot throw a punch, or shoot a gun, that you don't know the signs when someone else is about to do so?"
Ambrose
17 years ago
He slammed the drink down on the counter with a great deal of force and half the contents splashed out. She was twisting his word and damned if she didn’t know it.
“That’s not what I said and you know it.”
Anger, like passion, could and did make his fangs more visible, he could feel them now. It wasn’t like she didn’t know he was pissed but this reaction upset him even more. It was one more thing out of his control. But rather than calm down and have them retract he just pushed back even harder.
“They’re substandard. Yeah I can still shoot I’m still damned good if you want the truth. But I can’t run, I can’t duck, and even my punches are off. I can’t use my legs… pardon me… -leg- the same.”
“That’s not what I said and you know it.”
Anger, like passion, could and did make his fangs more visible, he could feel them now. It wasn’t like she didn’t know he was pissed but this reaction upset him even more. It was one more thing out of his control. But rather than calm down and have them retract he just pushed back even harder.
“They’re substandard. Yeah I can still shoot I’m still damned good if you want the truth. But I can’t run, I can’t duck, and even my punches are off. I can’t use my legs… pardon me… -leg- the same.”
Ysabel
17 years ago
Ysabel had expected temper from Ambrose, which she got. She made a mental note to clean the kitchen later, seeing as how this was greatly her fault.
"Of course you can't," she pointed out. "It's not sensible to expect you to. Not to belabor the obvious, Ambrose, but you've got a prosthetic... there's a good reason it's called that. It's not a replacement for what you lost, it's a supplement."
She shook her head, knowing Ambrose could get rather intense in his anger. He did everything with passion; love, music, rage... he threw himself into everything he did without restraint.
"Knowing you, I'd expect you to be showing off what you can do, rather than hiding behind your handicap claiming you cannot."
She twisted her fingers together a bit; she hated causing this tension, having his anger focused at her. But her role in the clan was to do exactly this, and she didn't know how else to get Ambrose to acknowledge the subject aside from putting neon lights around it.
"Of course you can't," she pointed out. "It's not sensible to expect you to. Not to belabor the obvious, Ambrose, but you've got a prosthetic... there's a good reason it's called that. It's not a replacement for what you lost, it's a supplement."
She shook her head, knowing Ambrose could get rather intense in his anger. He did everything with passion; love, music, rage... he threw himself into everything he did without restraint.
"Knowing you, I'd expect you to be showing off what you can do, rather than hiding behind your handicap claiming you cannot."
She twisted her fingers together a bit; she hated causing this tension, having his anger focused at her. But her role in the clan was to do exactly this, and she didn't know how else to get Ambrose to acknowledge the subject aside from putting neon lights around it.
Ambrose
17 years ago
He bit back on an overwhelming feeling of rage. If she’d been a man, he would have hit her, and no trifling tap either.
She was trampling on his loss. A loss that changed his life. It had killed him, literally and Ambrose had never adjusted to it, nor did he want to.
“Its not a good supplement either. Do you want the fucking math on this? Twenty-seven years with a real leg, only twenty-seven being whole. I’ve had this damned thing for thirty five and that’s not a hell of a lot when you consider hobbling around being an object of pity for ninety.”
Every time some one had looked at him with sorrow, looked away too quickly, or blatantly stared it had been like losing the leg all over again. It had been torture, it still was, and he hated it.
He gulped down what he hadn’t spilled and debated throwing the glass but didn’t.
“I’m not hiding. I’m putting it right out there in the open. I’m a gimp.”
She was trampling on his loss. A loss that changed his life. It had killed him, literally and Ambrose had never adjusted to it, nor did he want to.
“Its not a good supplement either. Do you want the fucking math on this? Twenty-seven years with a real leg, only twenty-seven being whole. I’ve had this damned thing for thirty five and that’s not a hell of a lot when you consider hobbling around being an object of pity for ninety.”
Every time some one had looked at him with sorrow, looked away too quickly, or blatantly stared it had been like losing the leg all over again. It had been torture, it still was, and he hated it.
He gulped down what he hadn’t spilled and debated throwing the glass but didn’t.
“I’m not hiding. I’m putting it right out there in the open. I’m a gimp.”
Ysabel
17 years ago
She'd heard that anger was... a stage. Of something. That every person went through certain steps in a process toward admitting a problem. Ysabel wished she'd read that brochure a lot more carefully. All of this frustration did no good pent up, and she was momentarily halted, herself.
Every instinct she had wanted to placate him, comfort him, tell him she was sorry and she hadn't meant anything by it, and do whatever it took to make him happy with her again. But was that really what would be healthy or useful here? Ysabel thought about it for a moment. Should she really be trying to placate Ambrose? She was fairly certain he wouldn't hurt her, or that even if he tried she would be able to defend herself. She trusted him, though, and perhaps she should display that trust more fully, even if he didn't recognize it as such right now.
He wanted her to express her opinion more. He'd said so himself.
"Do you mean to tell me," she said calmly, "that you've been wallowing in self-pity ever since you were turned?"
She tilted her head at him. She'd winced at his harsh language, but now she controlled her reactions a bit more. "I've been out with you plenty," she pointed out, "and the only pity I've seen is your own. You've had a prosthetic for over thirty years... I've witnessed humans, weak little humans, get fitted with prosthetics and be back out jogging and playing sports within a few months."
Wondering exactly how big the explosion was about to be, she put the final nail in what was likely her own proverbial coffin, "I would have thought you of all people would have the strength and the stamina to prove you can rise above your disability and show you are not ruled by it, but that doesn't seem to be the case. How can a leg you lost over a hundred years ago still control your life?"
She thought, perhaps, that when this was done she might be wanting a very good long cry. She didn't like hurting him, but she couldn't possibly hurt him more than he was hurting himself.
Every instinct she had wanted to placate him, comfort him, tell him she was sorry and she hadn't meant anything by it, and do whatever it took to make him happy with her again. But was that really what would be healthy or useful here? Ysabel thought about it for a moment. Should she really be trying to placate Ambrose? She was fairly certain he wouldn't hurt her, or that even if he tried she would be able to defend herself. She trusted him, though, and perhaps she should display that trust more fully, even if he didn't recognize it as such right now.
He wanted her to express her opinion more. He'd said so himself.
"Do you mean to tell me," she said calmly, "that you've been wallowing in self-pity ever since you were turned?"
She tilted her head at him. She'd winced at his harsh language, but now she controlled her reactions a bit more. "I've been out with you plenty," she pointed out, "and the only pity I've seen is your own. You've had a prosthetic for over thirty years... I've witnessed humans, weak little humans, get fitted with prosthetics and be back out jogging and playing sports within a few months."
Wondering exactly how big the explosion was about to be, she put the final nail in what was likely her own proverbial coffin, "I would have thought you of all people would have the strength and the stamina to prove you can rise above your disability and show you are not ruled by it, but that doesn't seem to be the case. How can a leg you lost over a hundred years ago still control your life?"
She thought, perhaps, that when this was done she might be wanting a very good long cry. She didn't like hurting him, but she couldn't possibly hurt him more than he was hurting himself.
Ambrose
17 years ago
"It isn't pity and don't you tell me it is. Its reality."Â?
How could she of all people do this to him? This was why he didn't let people get close, if you kept them at a distance they couldn't hurt you. Ambrose was very nearly shaking with fury, his voice became low and deadly serious.
"Try it. You god damned try it and then you can talk to me about this."Â?
He'd gone to pour another drink when she'd struck another blow. Ambrose couldn't hold back any more. He didn't care if the whole manor heard him he roared back at Ysabel.
"I HAVE a life! It's just different. How can I NOT let it control me, everything changed that night and that means I've got limits! I can't do what I used to!"Â?
How could she of all people do this to him? This was why he didn't let people get close, if you kept them at a distance they couldn't hurt you. Ambrose was very nearly shaking with fury, his voice became low and deadly serious.
"Try it. You god damned try it and then you can talk to me about this."Â?
He'd gone to pour another drink when she'd struck another blow. Ambrose couldn't hold back any more. He didn't care if the whole manor heard him he roared back at Ysabel.
"I HAVE a life! It's just different. How can I NOT let it control me, everything changed that night and that means I've got limits! I can't do what I used to!"Â?
Ysabel
17 years ago
Ysabel was fairly certain the Manor shook as Ambrose completely lost his temper and bellowed at the top of his (undead yet formidable) lungs. She was suddenly glad she hadn't chosen to stand, because she would have gone weak in the knees right about then. Was this it? Had she pushed too far, and was she going to lose Ambrose over this? She only wanted to help, but perhaps her decision had been the wrong one.
No. She wanted very much to support Ambrose, but doing so meant encouraging him to learn how to live with his handicap, not be controlled by it. She shouldn't back down now. Ysabel steeled herself and let Ambrose's words fly at her and through her.
"We all suffer loss, Ambrose. Perhaps not as physical, or as tangible, but everyone suffers. If it would in any way ease your pain for me to lose my own leg, I would gladly do so and share your hurt, but I cannot. As it stands I can only tell you what I see, and that is a man who could be so much more than he is, but will not let himself overcome his own fears."
She crossed her arms over her chest, the only real defensive gesture she'd made thus far. "You can't do what you used to, but you can do far more than you allow yourself to. It takes patience and practice, and while those may be in short supply, you're more than capable of both."
Ysabel tried to manage her best glare, falling short of the daggers Ambrose was shooting at her but still hoping she'd managed, and said, "What reality is, is taking what you've been dealt and learning how to put it behind you, make the best of it, rise above it. I think you can do that. You're the one who doesn't agree."
No. She wanted very much to support Ambrose, but doing so meant encouraging him to learn how to live with his handicap, not be controlled by it. She shouldn't back down now. Ysabel steeled herself and let Ambrose's words fly at her and through her.
"We all suffer loss, Ambrose. Perhaps not as physical, or as tangible, but everyone suffers. If it would in any way ease your pain for me to lose my own leg, I would gladly do so and share your hurt, but I cannot. As it stands I can only tell you what I see, and that is a man who could be so much more than he is, but will not let himself overcome his own fears."
She crossed her arms over her chest, the only real defensive gesture she'd made thus far. "You can't do what you used to, but you can do far more than you allow yourself to. It takes patience and practice, and while those may be in short supply, you're more than capable of both."
Ysabel tried to manage her best glare, falling short of the daggers Ambrose was shooting at her but still hoping she'd managed, and said, "What reality is, is taking what you've been dealt and learning how to put it behind you, make the best of it, rise above it. I think you can do that. You're the one who doesn't agree."
Ambrose
17 years ago
He was too upset by the conversation thus far to let her sensible, sympathetic and even kind words make a dent in his well-practiced armor. It was too late for that. Rather he snarled right back at her.
“I’m glad we got this out in the open. I’m half a man and a coward.”
It was a good thing he hadn’t smashed the glass because he very much wanted another drink. Ambrose didn’t feel like denying himself at this point either. It was a very large shot, probably a triple but he didn’t care he downed it in one swallow the burn distracting from other things, not that the distraction lasted long.
“If you’ve got anything else to add along those lines let’s do it now alright.”
No, she was wrong. Belle had got a clue on this point and she was right, she never would. This wasn’t just about loss or suffering this was about change this was about knowing what you could and couldn’t do and she was the one messing with reality.
“I’ve put it behind me, I’ve made the best of it and this is what I’ve got. Now if you can’t deal with that I don’t see how that’s my problem.”
“I’m glad we got this out in the open. I’m half a man and a coward.”
It was a good thing he hadn’t smashed the glass because he very much wanted another drink. Ambrose didn’t feel like denying himself at this point either. It was a very large shot, probably a triple but he didn’t care he downed it in one swallow the burn distracting from other things, not that the distraction lasted long.
“If you’ve got anything else to add along those lines let’s do it now alright.”
No, she was wrong. Belle had got a clue on this point and she was right, she never would. This wasn’t just about loss or suffering this was about change this was about knowing what you could and couldn’t do and she was the one messing with reality.
“I’ve put it behind me, I’ve made the best of it and this is what I’ve got. Now if you can’t deal with that I don’t see how that’s my problem.”
Ysabel
17 years ago
Ysabel frowned slightly, trying not to let her own feelings show on her face. Fighting to maintain her calm expression she gave a small sigh and shook her head.
"You're neither coward nor half a man," she said calmly, very happy to find her voice strong and steady. She supposed she should have expected her initial, simple 'why aren't you...' question would have elicited such a strong response; she knew Ambrose well enough by now.
He tossed back another... no, several... shots, and Ysabel nodded to herself. Let him drink himself into a stupor, if that's what worked. Perhaps he'd wake up and... what, realize she'd only wanted to help? Hardly likely. She expected Ambrose would take while to cool down... if he cooled down.
That realization hit her hard and she swallowed a few times.
"I think I've said all that needed to be said. There's no point in beating a dead horse," she pointed out coolly. "I would question your having put it behind you, as it quite obviously seems to be very much not behind you, but what do I know of loss or overcoming hardship?"
She turned to go, fairly certain her presence would now just be unproductive. Let Ambrose dwell on it some. Ysabel knew he would; he shot first and asked question later. That was Ambrose. Having fended off the bullets as best as she was capable, her continued presence would only provoke his anger and she wanted to let him think.
"You're right, Amber," she said, deliberately using the nickname as she paused with her hand on the door. "It must be my problem. I'm the one drinking my way through it."
She slipped out of the door with that, shutting it gently behind her and leaning on the wall outside with a shaky little sigh. Thinking it best to be far away for a little while, she pushed up and away, content for a few minutes to simply wander until the weight of what she'd done came crashing down.
((ooc: Belle out))
"You're neither coward nor half a man," she said calmly, very happy to find her voice strong and steady. She supposed she should have expected her initial, simple 'why aren't you...' question would have elicited such a strong response; she knew Ambrose well enough by now.
He tossed back another... no, several... shots, and Ysabel nodded to herself. Let him drink himself into a stupor, if that's what worked. Perhaps he'd wake up and... what, realize she'd only wanted to help? Hardly likely. She expected Ambrose would take while to cool down... if he cooled down.
That realization hit her hard and she swallowed a few times.
"I think I've said all that needed to be said. There's no point in beating a dead horse," she pointed out coolly. "I would question your having put it behind you, as it quite obviously seems to be very much not behind you, but what do I know of loss or overcoming hardship?"
She turned to go, fairly certain her presence would now just be unproductive. Let Ambrose dwell on it some. Ysabel knew he would; he shot first and asked question later. That was Ambrose. Having fended off the bullets as best as she was capable, her continued presence would only provoke his anger and she wanted to let him think.
"You're right, Amber," she said, deliberately using the nickname as she paused with her hand on the door. "It must be my problem. I'm the one drinking my way through it."
She slipped out of the door with that, shutting it gently behind her and leaning on the wall outside with a shaky little sigh. Thinking it best to be far away for a little while, she pushed up and away, content for a few minutes to simply wander until the weight of what she'd done came crashing down.
((ooc: Belle out))
Ambrose
17 years ago
The fact that she could remain calm through this was irritating. It was just wrong, every thing that came from her mouth set off some new spark of anger or pain in him but she was completely unaffected. Cold thing.
“You’re the one who brought this up.”
He did his best not to think about it and if she was going to push, the issues she could damn well deal with his reaction.
Ambrose couldn’t decide if he was angry or glad that she left. All he could do was repeat to himself that she had no idea what she was talking about, no basis to judge and he wasn’t going to dignify that last shot with any kind of an answer, he wasn’t going to shout after her. Although he was at a loss what to do now, she’d left while he still wanted to fight.
Still livid he poured another whiskey, no he wasn’t drinking his way through this, and sat down on the couch. The TV was on but he didn’t see it, nor did he touch the whiskey. His ears were still ringing, blood pounding, but he didn’t have a focus for it any more. Maybe he’d take that weeklong gig in New York after all.
((OOC… Ambrose out. Lock please. Thank you.))
“You’re the one who brought this up.”
He did his best not to think about it and if she was going to push, the issues she could damn well deal with his reaction.
Ambrose couldn’t decide if he was angry or glad that she left. All he could do was repeat to himself that she had no idea what she was talking about, no basis to judge and he wasn’t going to dignify that last shot with any kind of an answer, he wasn’t going to shout after her. Although he was at a loss what to do now, she’d left while he still wanted to fight.
Still livid he poured another whiskey, no he wasn’t drinking his way through this, and sat down on the couch. The TV was on but he didn’t see it, nor did he touch the whiskey. His ears were still ringing, blood pounding, but he didn’t have a focus for it any more. Maybe he’d take that weeklong gig in New York after all.
((OOC… Ambrose out. Lock please. Thank you.))