Ivo, as Ivo does, makes a show of it. On and off the court, he performs.
He rolls his eyes. He picks his ears. He holds his anger in his throat instead of in his hands like a good little showman. Violence would be crude, would be beneath him, would get him defaulted. And he's playing to win.
He's still smiling at Jude. It's all air. It's all water. All buzz buzz buzz. (He tunes out the word divorce like it's outside of his vocabulary entirely, like it doesn't still make him nauseous to think about). It all rolls off his back like it's nothing. Or at least that's how he's playing it. āNah. It's none of that. I just find you an eyesore, is all.ā Ivo flexes his fingers, lacing them together under his chin. The truth is somewhere to the left. He refuses to look it in the eye.
āIt's funny, you going on about me being washed up. From one has been to one will be, I think you're gonna find yourself in the same boat soon enough.ā This time when he laughs, it's with the force of all his resentment behind it. āYou should be careful about what you put out there, or else those words'll come back to haunt you. Karma tends to be pretty funny like that.ā
A pause. Then another smile, this time so soft it's almost bordering on affectionate. āCould take a while to catch up, though. So maybe I'll do karma a favour and speed things up a bit. Maybe I'll show up at your house tonight while you're sleeping. Maybe I'll bring my racket. My swing's still pretty good, y'know.ā