Xati Bailey

She would've laughed at his pronounciation in French, if things had still been the way they had been, but they weren't. She could feel his anger burning hot, and almost felt like the door was there to protect her, instead of the other way around. And the worst part was he was right. She knew him, and had known he would just let her have her way. She had left him in the hospital, without a word, that much was true. But the healers had been there, his family, they gave him the support she could never give him and she had been scared. Of Rye knowing, coming for her, and of Mike's family. They'd know. Of her husband being dragged to court if she showed her face. But it was harsh to hear the truth so plainly. Nobody really talked to her like that. 
 
She pressed her lips together. She wanted to lash out at him, call him an asshole and all the colourful words in her vocabulary. Hearing him now made her feel even more guilty. "Mike." She frowned. "I..." She shook her head. "You're right. I should've come by, or written a letter or something. I was just too scared."

Ouch. She hadn't expected that blow from Mike, of all people. "Je t’emmerde, no, I am not here for that, don't flatter yourself, dickhead. I work in the same hospital they brought you to and when I heard the description and what had happened I knew it was you. But I was too afraid to come see you then, to check if my friend was okay." He was so hostile, she wasn't used to him like that. Didn't think Michael Baker even had a hostile mode. He seemed slow and sad and sulky, only spun into action by love or lust. When they were with friends he was happy, but happy people didn't want to kill themselves, now did they?

She nodded. "Good." Though she wasn't sure if she believed him. He was always hiding how he felt, wasn't he? That's how he ended up on the floor in her barn. "I was just thinking, maybe we can talk about it." 

She opened her eyes wide as the door slammed in her face. She didn't know what reaction she'd expected, but certainly not this. Mike was nothing if not desperate for attention and she hadn't ever known him to reject anyone's attempts. To contact him, too. But there the door opened again, but only a little bit. She could see a small part of his face, the rest hidden behind the wooden door, and a sharp question. "Nothing. I just wanted to check if you're alright." She said softly, feeling the guilt towards him seep in. The guy looked at him as if she was wielding a knife, and was about to break in. So on guard he was.

She would've laughed at his pronounciation in French, if things had still been the way they had been, but they weren't. She could feel his anger burning hot, and almost felt like the door was there to protect her, instead of the other way around. And the worst part was he was right. She knew him, and had known he would just let her have her way. She had left him in the hospital, without a word, that much was true. But the healers had been there, his family, they gave him the support she could never give him and she had been scared. Of Rye knowing, coming for her, and of Mike's family. They'd know. Of her husband being dragged to court if she showed her face. But it was harsh to hear the truth so plainly. Nobody really talked to her like that. 
 
She pressed her lips together. She wanted to lash out at him, call him an asshole and all the colourful words in her vocabulary. Hearing him now made her feel even more guilty. "Mike." She frowned. "I..." She shook her head. "You're right. I should've come by, or written a letter or something. I was just too scared."

Ouch. She hadn't expected that blow from Mike, of all people. "Je t’emmerde, no, I am not here for that, don't flatter yourself, dickhead. I work in the same hospital they brought you to and when I heard the description and what had happened I knew it was you. But I was too afraid to come see you then, to check if my friend was okay." He was so hostile, she wasn't used to him like that. Didn't think Michael Baker even had a hostile mode. He seemed slow and sad and sulky, only spun into action by love or lust. When they were with friends he was happy, but happy people didn't want to kill themselves, now did they?

She nodded. "Good." Though she wasn't sure if she believed him. He was always hiding how he felt, wasn't he? That's how he ended up on the floor in her barn. "I was just thinking, maybe we can talk about it." 

She opened her eyes wide as the door slammed in her face. She didn't know what reaction she'd expected, but certainly not this. Mike was nothing if not desperate for attention and she hadn't ever known him to reject anyone's attempts. To contact him, too. But there the door opened again, but only a little bit. She could see a small part of his face, the rest hidden behind the wooden door, and a sharp question. "Nothing. I just wanted to check if you're alright." She said softly, feeling the guilt towards him seep in. The guy looked at him as if she was wielding a knife, and was about to break in. So on guard he was.