I was being polite. That one phrase brought back just how much Eric was doing for her, being here, shaping himself into whatever it was that her family wanted: the doctor to Aunt Jude's paranoias, the taker of random drinks. It wasn't an awful fate-- Amber had seen worse in the clinic this week-- but Eric did look fairly miserable, like he'd been left out in the rain too long and shrunk down a size or two. Amber took a pause in her hunt for win to kiss Eric quickly on his cheek, smiling with sincere appreciation. "You're a prince, but you can say 'no,' you know. And, no, leave the glass on the sink, my mom will have a heart attack if you do any work." She'd take it as an accusation that she was a poor, sloppy host.
The scent of roasted beef reminded Amber of just how long her last meal had been: hours ago she'd scarfed down a granola bar as she put the final touches on her bags. Her mom wasn't a professional chef, but Amber did miss her cooking, from time to time. Brian might not be here yet, but luckily her mom's sense of punctuality was stronger than her impulse to wait for all the guests.
Amber dug the screw into the cork, then twisted with hardly a thought. "It should be; it's only not because she's here." Between inane adult conversations and infuriating cooing over precious children, the former won by a landslide. Focusing on opening the bottle, Amber didn't really notice Eric's cooling dismay. "Yeah," she said distractedly to his comments-- until, that is, his last one. Jerking her face towards him, her hand shot up too, bringing a loud pop! from the bottle. "Are you crazy!?" she demanded. "I'm trying to avoid any attention, if you haven't noticed!"
He was so off the mark. Wanting the attention, really, Amber had never heard anything so stupid in her life. "I don't like kids, that's all," she gestured, then stopped when the wine threatened to spill. She could deal with kids in the hospital; there was no avoiding that part of the clientele. It was work, so she grinned and bore it. But in her time off, why should she have to deal with them? They were loud and messy and obnoxious.
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The scent of roasted beef reminded Amber of just how long her last meal had been: hours ago she'd scarfed down a granola bar as she put the final touches on her bags. Her mom wasn't a professional chef, but Amber did miss her cooking, from time to time. Brian might not be here yet, but luckily her mom's sense of punctuality was stronger than her impulse to wait for all the guests.
Amber dug the screw into the cork, then twisted with hardly a thought. "It should be; it's only not because she's here." Between inane adult conversations and infuriating cooing over precious children, the former won by a landslide. Focusing on opening the bottle, Amber didn't really notice Eric's cooling dismay. "Yeah," she said distractedly to his comments-- until, that is, his last one. Jerking her face towards him, her hand shot up too, bringing a loud pop! from the bottle. "Are you crazy!?" she demanded. "I'm trying to avoid any attention, if you haven't noticed!"
He was so off the mark. Wanting the attention, really, Amber had never heard anything so stupid in her life. "I don't like kids, that's all," she gestured, then stopped when the wine threatened to spill. She could deal with kids in the hospital; there was no avoiding that part of the clientele. It was work, so she grinned and bore it. But in her time off, why should she have to deal with them? They were loud and messy and obnoxious.