He doesn't take her hand. Whether it's because he doesn't see it, what with one of his eyes bright red with broken capillaries now, or because he's too proud to is up to debate. But he does get up, straighten his back, and ready himself again for her pounding.
"Come on, bitch," he snarls, not because he means it, not because he feels anything but gratitude for Felicity right now, but because he wants to spur her on. Wants her to unleash all that anger she's had kept in society's chains out on him. "You're running out of time."
He needs her to get more tickets. He can't win this. He can't live with himself if he wins this.
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He doesn't take her hand. Whether it's because he doesn't see it, what with one of his eyes bright red with broken capillaries now, or because he's too proud to is up to debate. But he does get up, straighten his back, and ready himself again for her pounding.
"Come on, bitch," he snarls, not because he means it, not because he feels anything but gratitude for Felicity right now, but because he wants to spur her on. Wants her to unleash all that anger she's had kept in society's chains out on him. "You're running out of time."
He needs her to get more tickets. He can't win this. He can't live with himself if he wins this.