Eighteen

CONAN

"No," Claire says as she jerkily grabs my shirt. "You don't fucking leave a conversation in the middle of it.”

"Or else? Are you going to hit me until I'm unconscious?” anger blossomed in my strained voice.

"Probably to death, it would be easier." She stood in front of me, daring me to take even a single step.

"You're going to bitch out as usual when we're trying to have a proper conversation?"

“Nah.” I waved her off. You don't freaking call me that, there is no 'we’ and there isn't even a conversation.”

“No 'we’?” She made an air-based finger click.

“I'd rather not speak.”

"So sad, I want to." She spoke louder so that it matched mine. Our argument has heated up the space.

"Well, then, go find someone else, the maids or bloody cooks, jailers, and have fun."

She guarded the entrance and stopped me from leaving the room, so I turned around and walked to the bar.

She laughed. "When you're not bitching out, you're boozing away."

"You don't call me that," I lost it. My fist strike