arrowtotheheel:
He couldn’t follow up the trip. Why couldn’t he follow up? It was a perfect opening and all he did was silently watch as she picked herself up off the ground. She was always good at that part- persistent enough to make him proud. Sandor was proud. She’d lied to him, mocked his feelings and he was still fucking proud of Bex and who she’d made herself into. Weak, Yilmaz.
He let the punch fly, loose as it was, wondering if the pain would bring the rage back. He hoped so, it was the only solace he had nowadays- red and white so blinding it blocked out the sorrow, the hole in the core of his being. It didn’t. “What, did I beat the snark out of you?” rang hollow, a shadow of his usual banter.
Suddenly he needed to be somewhere- anywhere else. A burst of energy had him pulling her down by the shoulder as his knee pulled up towards her face. But as soon as the movement was completed he was turning away, reeling as if he’d been the one hit. Gravel rolled in his words as he tugged his hand wrappings off, “Enough, get cleaned up and get out.” He couldn’t get to his thresholds like this, but he knew where he’d find the people who could push past them.
It hadn’t been her intention to mock him. Piss him off? Sure. But only to hopefully provoke a reaction that might make him wake up to what seemed so obvious to her. Clearly she’d miscalculated somewhat. Even his response seemed hollow, not their normal banter. But still, Bex gave a shark’s grin and shook her head. “Never. It’s in my DNA, you can’t get rid of it.”
He might not have beaten the snark out of her, but he’d certainly beaten her. Speed was her advantage, but she wasn’t fast enough to stop him pulling her face down to meet his knee. Bex felt a crack in her nose, and pain explode through her eye. But even as she straightened up--one eye closed and nose bleeding--it was Sandor who spun away. She was breathing hard, and it took a few moments for her to believe him enough to drop her hands. But he was tugging off his hand wrappings and telling her to get out.
She dropped her hands and began tugging off her own hand wraps. Only then did she really let herself realise how much pain she was in. “Fuck,” she muttered. Stubbornness was going to get her killed one of these days. She shoved her now bloody wraps into her bag and grabbed her towel. Normally it was used to wipe off sweat. Today, she held it to her face to stem the blood. “See you around, Sandor.”



















