"The goal of this," he reminds her gently, "is to get some of your energy out. You did that." He certainly doesn't care if she completes it, so long as she feels a little better or, failing that, at least finds it easier to sleep tonight. "I thought we could get you something from the kitchen, to bring back to your cabin, then I'll let you be."
"That wasn't the deal," she says. "The deal was I jump through your hoops in the Enclosure, and you leave me alone for four days. No dinner, no following me back to my cell. 96 straight hours without you or any of your proxies inserting yourselves into my shitty little life."
"Technically, the deal was I bring you the Nine Inch Nails albums and a CD player, so I will have to visit you one more time, but I can just leave them outside so you don't have to see me," B reminds her, but he backs down, steps aside to give her a clear path to the door. He won't go with her. "Just try to drink something that isn't alcohol before bed?"
She bends to pick up her shoes and socks on her way past him out the door, not putting them on, but dangling them from her fingers.
"No," she says, over her shoulder and without looking. It's pure contrarian spite; she'd fully intended to rehydrate, and possibly slip out to find something to eat once she was sure he wasn't lurking. But while she might be too exhausted to vent her rage, right now anything he might want from her, she's inclined to do the opposite.
He shuts his eyes, doesn't move when she leaves, lets the door slide shut behind her.
Then he sets a two hour timer, turns the course up to full speed, and throws himself into it so he doesn't punch anything that might actually take damage.
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"That wasn't the deal," she says. "The deal was I jump through your hoops in the Enclosure, and you leave me alone for four days. No dinner, no following me back to my cell. 96 straight hours without you or any of your proxies inserting yourselves into my shitty little life."
no subject
no subject
"No," she says, over her shoulder and without looking. It's pure contrarian spite; she'd fully intended to rehydrate, and possibly slip out to find something to eat once she was sure he wasn't lurking. But while she might be too exhausted to vent her rage, right now anything he might want from her, she's inclined to do the opposite.
no subject
Then he sets a two hour timer, turns the course up to full speed, and throws himself into it so he doesn't punch anything that might actually take damage.