And Eric had the indecency of laughing throughout, as if this were some blooper of an older couple falling over while dancing, or a dog running smack into a wall. Amber gritted her teeth; grit them harder when his second duck fell over. Fuck she wasn't just going to not win, she'd lose to him, too!
Thankfully none were vanquished with that final shot. A small mercy.
Amber's hands, clenched tight in her pockets, hurt from the combination of cold and muscle strain. Her face was also starting to freeze, her nose turning into an ice center. "There's only one thing we can do," Amber told him, already pulling out a crisp new dollar bill. "Rematch."
She then turned to the booth keeper, who, pale, looked even more inclined to bolt from the fair. Amber tried for a grim smile. "Great game, really addictive." If she didn't win this time-- he'd rue not having acted on his instinct to run. There was nobody behind them, so he had no reason to not nod her permission to continue.
The problem wasn't the bet. Letting Eric be in charge of what they did, Amber was okay with that. She wouldn't have proposed those terms if she weren't willing to follow them through; she could've just as easily determined wearing silly hats to work tomorrow. It wouldn't have even been that bad a penance; they'd have been taken in the Halloween spirit. And, sure, it was kind of scary, the thought that she'd have to relinquish control-- then again, it'd have been her choice to do so. She'd still be in control because they were, ultimately, doing what she'd decided they would. She trusted Eric to lead them to something that'd bring pleasure to them both.
No, she just really wanted to fucking win.
Amber grabbed another gun; firing off in anger had worked for her, so she did so, fast and thoughtlessly. Just shoot, shoot, keep on shooting. The scent gunpowder infiltrated her frozen nose and she barely registered what fell when. She just moved on when one more miserable yellow duck met its fate. When her shots ran out, Amber lowered her gun, realizing only then that she was panting. Whatever: she'd hit some, she knew. Counting, she saw she'd scored three hits. A smile burst over her face. Yes. She’d won a smaller prize. "Your turn," she said to Eric cheerfully.
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Thankfully none were vanquished with that final shot. A small mercy.
Amber's hands, clenched tight in her pockets, hurt from the combination of cold and muscle strain. Her face was also starting to freeze, her nose turning into an ice center. "There's only one thing we can do," Amber told him, already pulling out a crisp new dollar bill. "Rematch."
She then turned to the booth keeper, who, pale, looked even more inclined to bolt from the fair. Amber tried for a grim smile. "Great game, really addictive." If she didn't win this time-- he'd rue not having acted on his instinct to run. There was nobody behind them, so he had no reason to not nod her permission to continue.
The problem wasn't the bet. Letting Eric be in charge of what they did, Amber was okay with that. She wouldn't have proposed those terms if she weren't willing to follow them through; she could've just as easily determined wearing silly hats to work tomorrow. It wouldn't have even been that bad a penance; they'd have been taken in the Halloween spirit. And, sure, it was kind of scary, the thought that she'd have to relinquish control-- then again, it'd have been her choice to do so. She'd still be in control because they were, ultimately, doing what she'd decided they would. She trusted Eric to lead them to something that'd bring pleasure to them both.
No, she just really wanted to fucking win.
Amber grabbed another gun; firing off in anger had worked for her, so she did so, fast and thoughtlessly. Just shoot, shoot, keep on shooting. The scent gunpowder infiltrated her frozen nose and she barely registered what fell when. She just moved on when one more miserable yellow duck met its fate. When her shots ran out, Amber lowered her gun, realizing only then that she was panting. Whatever: she'd hit some, she knew. Counting, she saw she'd scored three hits. A smile burst over her face. Yes. She’d won a smaller prize. "Your turn," she said to Eric cheerfully.