"Yeah," she answered. If they had to talk-- which they did-- Mickey's, a neutral place that'd create few expectations for where they'd go afterward, was their best option. They'd managed to have a few decent conversations since they first met, especially this last Saturday, and Amber thought like she had a good idea who Eric was-- but they were still mostly focused on the sex. And that'd be fine if they didn't keep fighting every time they exchanged more than five words.

Eric took to her offer like a cat to a rainstorm. His sulk morphed into anger, his nostrils flaring out and the whites of his eyes widening as he demanded what she meant. What had she done? When she'd let him ask her anything in the locker room on Saturday, he'd liked that. It'd helped. Why wasn't it any good now? Hurt, Amber sucked on her lips; drew a short breath in through her nose.

"I'm not angry," Amber said slowly, deliberately. Meanwhile, Eric jabbed at the elevator button like it'd flung sand in his face and called him stupid. She'd messed up, right when she'd been trying to smooth things out between them. It was okay. Amber could fix a mess. She eyed him, trying to look into his face even as he avoided her gaze. "I-- I want to talk, too. And I'm not angry now, I've just been-- I've been getting angry a lot, and I don't want to, now. I'm trying to not get upset."

Would that be enough? She’d told him she’d never had a relationship before. For all she knew, she’d broken some cardinal rule. How about you, she wanted to ask. She was almost afraid to, though. If she asked… she probably wouldn’t like the answer. Eric’d probably just repeat all his grievances about her work conduct. But he couldn’t not tell her, either. What did he even want from her?

The elevator gave her a brief respite, arriving and opening its doors. A couple of people were in there: a doctor with a shiny leather briefcase and a woman in casual, somber clothes. Amber went in, expecting a silent and awkward ride to the ground floor.