Eric didn’t like being out of control either. Or did he? He’d managed it better than her, so far. Their patient’s reading her as the dominant partner confirmed that he’d submitted to her—as if everything else hadn’t been evidence enough. She’d hit on him, she’d invited him for drinks, she’d taken him onto her turf—and so it had been, on and on. The times he’d broken from her expectations, Amber hadn’t taken it well. Either she’d walked out on him, like at the bar when he’d told her about how he worked for House, or she’d demanded satisfaction, following him until she’d gotten what she wanted.

“If you feel the same way, where does that leave us?” They couldn’t both rule. Maybe together they could find a solution. Maybe she'd never be as sensitive as she had been tonight; she'd never been unraveled like this before, why would she be again? At any rate, with Eric so gentle, Amber wasn't worried. If they wanted to stay together, then they'd figure something out, just like they would with all the other problems facing them. Unless he didn’t care to stay with her. But she was pretty sure that wasn’t the case.

"I just told you I threw a temper tantrum because I wasn't Queen of the Universe, how’s that for stupid?" She did want— no, had to hear his explanation. Until then, Amber wouldn’t feel balanced, forever wondering why a good promise could be received so badly. If he didn’t believe that she would stop, or if he was angry at the implication that she wouldn’t have before that promise, Amber had to know. Any mistrust from him would hurt, but as long as she didn’t know what had bothered him, she couldn’t fix it. She might even commit the same wrong again, unwittingly. “Try me.” Alert, Amber watched for she could see of his reaction in the dark and prepared her senses to feel out what could be deciphered physically.