her own eyes roll at his display of dramatics and sheâs prepared for a proper comeback, but sheâs much too distracted by his words. certainly, the statements sting but misconstrued words sound like compliments to her ears. â â youâre saying you actually liked me ? â she adds : â as a person ? â her voice sounds lighter, more vulnerable and damn it all to hell. you didnât go showing weakness to people like ezra. if the spray paint or the cigarette smoke clinging to him like a second scent were indicators, he was not to be trusted.
but, damn, sheâd had a lot to drink. her thoughts were so jumbled, she could no longer tell what she wanted to keep to herself and what she wanted to share. ( trick question : she never wanted to share anything ) .
she steps forward, immediately trying to recover from her temporary lapse of judgement. although, willingly conversing with ezra was a lapse of judgement in itself. a sneer is directed his way as she tests the unfamiliar weight of the can and gives it a shake. and then slowly, achingly slowly, the perfectionist attempts to fix the petal. â itâs just you have to make each side is even. â sheâs nearly forgotten ezraâs even there. her attention is fixated.
however, the asshole becomes hard to forget when heâs insulting her. her hand shakes when she grips the can too tightly. she immediately quits painting and abruptly turns to face him. â what the hell is your problem ? i havenât done shit to you. â hadnât she heard those words before ? from others whoâd begged her to leave them alone. how hypocritical. it sends a rush of frustration over her in a wave. â i thought i could move on from the past, but youâre making it awful hard. â she blinks back tears ( of anger ? of frustration ? sadness ? ) . â well, fuck you. â definitely anger. she takes the spray can and ruins his stupid, ugly painting.Â
ezraâs eyebrows knit together, purely out of confusion. he knows sheâs had a few too many, but he didnât think she was so far gone that she didnât have a grasp on common sense. âi mean, i had to like you enough to date you. i donât exactly do that with people i donât like.â alright, heâll give her this one, though. itâs hard to differentiate whether he liked someone or just merely put up with them, the subtleties were vague at best and perplexing at worst. to add on to that, his mood played a huge part. youâre honestly better off not putting yourself through that fucked up game of chance.
he watches in silence as she fixes the petal, arms folded, eyes narrowed. heâs not entirely sure what there is to fix, but itâs BRIELLE weâre talking about, so he lets her do whatever her heart pleases. âit still looks the same?â the last word comes out slightly elevated, more in the tone of a question than a statement.
if his conscious was somewhat moral, he would have realized sooner than now that perhaps heâd taken his words too far. but donât let that convince you he feels apologetic -- because he doesnât. he just feels that he should have been slightly less assertive, because if he knows drunk people and heightened emotions were synonymous.Â
ezra needs to loosen up. that shot of jager might have calmed his nerves a little, but it sure as hell didnât lessen his borderline abusive behavior. âyou being here is enough to bother me. take a hint.â he seethes. she doesnât deserve this, ezra is aware. but when heâs going through his mood swings, no one is safe from being on the receiving end of its harsh effects. brielle included, even if he did think âkindlyâ of her at some point in time.
he doesnât react negatively to the painting being destroyed. not a flinch, not a sudden rise in adrenaline, not a desire to go on an remorseless tirade, nothing. âwhy the fuck would you care? all youâre every concerned about is yourself.â he knows her question was most likely rhetorical, but that doesnât stop him from answering. âby all means, youâre free to leave.â he then gestures to the door that lead back inside the club, as if he possessed any sort of ownership over the property.