From out of the car's heated comfort and into the wind Amber stepped, shutting the door firmly behind her. "Striking, right." Striking with sheer annoyingness, that was for sure. Amber didn't see what people saw in her; she supposed Thirteen could be considered pretty, if you were into auburn hair, smoldering gazes, strong jaws, and the air of an Audrey Hepburn on a really pissy day. Personally, Amber thought it just made Thirteen all the more irritating, the way no one bothered to look past her drop-dead gorgeous appearance and her very fucked-up personality.

"Notice anything else about her, or were her looks the extent of it?" She wasn't jealous. Not at all. There was no reason to be. Eric was here with her, and that was that. She just didn't like Thirteen, that was all.

To her surprise, Eric hadn't made a move to open her door, instead waiting on the curb. From his preoccupied air, like he was at the dinner table with a full plate and didn't know if he could start eating, it seemed he was debating whether or not he should've helped her out of the car. Amber grinned, glad that he'd remembered.

On her feet, Amber slipped her arm around Eric's, hooking their elbows together. Her hand found his, curling around it. She hadn't forgotten Thirteen. "I know House likes his eye candy-- none of the uglier girls lasted long, and I've seen Cameron. Which I guess at least means Taub’s days are numbered.”