Foreman kept playing even as Amber did her best to keep pissing him off, this time by offering cutesy little waves to whatever slack-jawed idiots were staring at both of them. She had to know how much that irritated him. It was the same as fighting in public--he hated it. He didn't see the need to drag a bunch of bystanders into their life. Whether they were having fun or not, it was between them, it wasn't about having an audience. Even as he smugly celebrated his win, part of Foreman was chafing at the fact that Amber seemed to want everyone else to stare at them. He'd had fun because he hadn't worried about looking like an fool, grabbing Amber in a hug or kissing her in the middle of the court. Being under the scrutiny of anybody else made him feel less free about the whole matter.

He still felt damn good about winning, though. Even if Amber had stacked every odd she could in her favour. In fact, that only left him more satisfied, since she'd had to cheat and squirm just to make the "score" look anything like even. He wasn't going to begrudge her comment about being the prettiest, especially when it was true. He grinned slightly, tilting his head to take in her stomping, impatient shot, as if that would prove something. She looked like she was working herself into a royal snit over losing, but since he'd already crowed, Foreman was finished rubbing it in her face.

Sauntering over after she'd made her shot, he picked up the ball and tucked it under his arm, and then stopped at the bench next to the wall to pick up a water bottle he'd brought. "You're gorgeous," he said, completely honestly, and quietly enough that it'd only be for her. He offered her the water bottle first, almost with a salute, as if he was paying his respects to a worthy opponent.