Eric rose to the task, as expected. Amber smirked as Eric's hand encased hers, taking it like some knight making grandiose promises to a beloved queen. She'd known he'd get a kick out of that; he always did like the gentleman's role. Better her boyfriend aspire to knighthood than court jester or royal pain in the ass, anyway.

Just when it seemed like they'd get it right this time and Amber could let her guard down, he yanked her to him. It didn't last for longer than a chilled stiffening; the oh-so-familiar embrace felt wrong a disjointed now, like a favorite song played in the wrong key. Had he tried to clutch on for longer, Amber would've pulled away. As it was, she told him, not coldly, "Too soon." She was sorry to say it. He'd looked so warm, so certain, so pleased to have her back in his arms, even if briefly. And why shouldn't he be certain? The first night they'd been together, she'd have jumped him in public.

But it wasn't two weeks ago, or this morning, and Amber wasn't ready for a hug. She was willing to remember everything—including the fights. She needed more to go on, that was all. Amber ran her hand down his right arm, found his fingers; twined hers around his. He'd be hurt from her rejection, she knew. If it were her, she'd probably have frozen into a major sulk. It didn't have to be a major thing, though. "I remember-- just don't go too fast on me, Eric." Amber hadn’t forgotten the misery of going home alone, the humiliation of being turned down. "I meant it about going slow." Holding on to his hand, she guided him towards the door.