Title:   Torment & Passion

Series: Wind & Rain  - Part X

Author: Barb Marx

Pairing:  Ezra/ofc /Seven

Universe:  ATF

Archive:  http://het_oasis.tripod.com/hot4het.html (adult pages)

Summary: Sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better.

Open fandom: Yes (TJ has done a fine job of bringing her 'First, you stumble…' story into my world)

Rating: R

Disclaimer: The M7 characters are owned by Trilogy, MGM and Mirisch, No copyright infringement was intended. For sheer entertainment

Acknowledgement: To Heather F. for using her Character, Ryan Kelly of Team 8

Dedication: TJ, thank you for your help and plotting, both literary, and in our design to take over the world. Snigger! LV thank you so much for giving these stories a home and creating such a wonderful background.

***********************************************************************

Torment & Passion

Rolling over, he reached and pulled the warm body towards him, groaning when she responded by arching into his grasp. His hands blazed a trail over her silky skin, touching, teasing, and stroking.

She, in turn, was setting him on fire with her talented mouth. She encouraged the southerner to roll over onto his back, straddling his shins. Bending over him, she continued her oral ministrations.

His temptress suddenly stopped what she was doing. Taking his hands, she moved up, placing them above his head to clasp the spindles of the headboard. Grinning seductively, she proceeded to kiss and lave her way down his body. She spent many minutes nipping and teasing his nipples until he was groaning and writhing beneath her. With a final nip to one distended bud, she moved southward over the muscled plane of his stomach, paying careful attention to his navel.

Shifting her body, the beauty above him nudged the southerner's legs apart and took up residence between them.

Finally reaching his groin, strong, yet dainty hands gently rolled and fondled his balls, massaging them while kissing and nipping at his thighs. After what seemed like forever, his enchantress licked at the tip of his cock, almost causing him to cum right then and there. She softly blew on his member, inducing it to twitch with a life of its own. Ezra groaned at the sensation.

His hands began to drift from the headboard to encourage her continuance, but she stopped him, quickly getting off of the mattress. Instinct made him reach for her, yet, she moved on. 

At the closet, her low laughter and rough tone signaled her devious intent. She chose three of his silk ties and then moved gracefully back to him, totally oblivious to how sexy she looked in her naked glory. Once at his side, she gently took, first one wrist, then the other, and bound them to the bed. The third was tenderly wrapped around his eyes, effectively blinding him. Satisfied, she crawled, cat like, back to his waiting member. With a low growl, she took the tip into her mouth and started to suckle and lap at it.

He howled, feeling that incredible mouth minister to his cock and his hips started moving of their own accord. His lover pinned him beneath her hands and successfully stopped his thrusts, yet, never ceasing to pleasure him.

As he reached his climax, he screamed his lover's name as she swallowed every drop of his essence, gently licking his penis clean. Boneless, he squinted when she removed his blindfold and smiled as he watched his lover crawl up his body to untie his hands. He reached out to take his partner into his arms…

Beep beep beep…

Standish came awake with a moan, the remnants of his dream staining his sheets. Turning to look at the empty space beside him, cursed.

It was Thursday again, almost two weeks had passed since Adrian left him and every night since then, he dreamt of her.  The somnambulant visions had become so real over time, so vivid, that his mind believed that she was there.

He tried various ways of preventing the sensuous nightmares, but nothing worked. Exercise only reminded him of the times he and Delaney had 'worked out' on the bench-press. The problem was that he was able to exhaust his body, but not his mind.

Drink numbed his consciousness but the real danger of developing a habit was enough of a deterrent. He kept from indulging in more than one libation per evening on most occasions.

He needed an undercover assignment.  Anything! He knew that immersing himself in a role might help keep his thoughts off of her. "You're a fool, Standish, You can't even say her name, can you?' he berated himself.

Wearily, he got out of bed and, after changing the sheets, he hauled himself into the shower, the temperature set as cold as he could stand it and still feel clean.

~~~~

Watching Ezra staking into the bullpen, Josiah sighed. He had been trying to talk to the southerner ever since Adrian moved into his basement suite. Every attempt failed, leaving the profiler more and more frustrated, and quite concerned for his friend.

Glancing over at the ex preacher, Standish realized that he was becoming increasingly angry with the man. Every time Sanchez engaged him in conversation, he could feel his rage expand. Hadn't the ex preacher done enough damage? Why had Josiah agreed to allow Adrian to live with him? 'Had the profiler declined the use of his basement, she would still be with the me,' he thought.

Vin was worried. His brother was in pain and he didn’t know what to do to help. Something was going on with Ezra but no one was talking. All anyone knew was that Adrian was living with Josiah and Ezra was mad at the world. If the southerner would just calm down enough to think rationally, possibly swallow some of his pride, then he might be able to salvage his relationship before it was too late.

Whenever the sharpshooter tried to talk to Ezra he was rebuffed. It was so frustrating. He discussed the situation with Buck and JD but they didn't know what was going on. All they did know was that Ezra was pissed with them, as well as with Josiah, and that he wasn’t talking to Adrian. Add to that the strange vibes he was getting from Kate, and Tanner was at the end of his rope. He decided that he would either confirm all of his suspicions or beat his head against the wall.

For his part, Buck had even attempted to talk to Adrian. That worked about as well as a sledgehammer to open a jar of pickles. The Canadian should have been a lawyer; her deft manner of avoiding a direct question was masterful. She left you feeling confused and thinking that nothing was wrong at the same time. The more the rogue interacted with Delaney the more he was convinced that she was perfect for Standish. Wilmington was ready to tear his hair out. The only solution, in his mind, was to lock the two of them in a closet. Not letting them out until they started talking to each other.

Wilmington agreed with Tanner about more than one thing going on about the office, something would have to give. He tried finding out what was going on from the ladies in the building. Kate either didn't know anything or was too distracted with her own problems to care. His girl, Debbie, didn't know anything either. While the two women were becoming Adrian's friends, it appeared that she wasn't confiding in them. Why did this woman have to be so different? She was more like Lansky than anyone realized. Sure, they looked completely different, and didn't behave in the same manner, but their underlying strength and stubbornness was the same. Adrian was determined not to let them in. The only 'fact' he knew, was that Ezra was frequenting the saloon a couple of times a week. He was there by himself and never drank to excess, just one or two before going home. Inez said he always took a cab and rarely spoke. He would just sit at the bar and brood. His poker face firmly fixed.

 ~~~~

“So, how is it going… sharing your house?” Nathan asked. He and Rain had dropped by Josiah's house on the weekend and had inadvertently discovered the fact that Adrian Delaney was now a tenant. Clueing in on Ezra's moodiness where the profiler was concerned, Jackson had refrained from saying anything at the time because of his love's presence. Now he and Josiah were having lunch together and given the southerner's particularly irate mood this morning, he was worried and decided that the only way to help, was to interfere.

"It will be two weeks tomorrow and its like Adrian’s always lived downstairs. It’s very strange really,” the profiler replied. He was relieved to have someone to talk to.

“Oh? No problems then?” the team medic asked.

“Not really, the only thing that unnerved me was when I came home to find a drying wrack in the laundry room, covered in underwear,” Sanchez blushed as he told his best friend.

Nathan couldn’t help but laugh. That was the last thing that he would have thought Josiah would blush about, “what did you do?”

“The only thing a reasonably smart man could. I turned around and left the room. Avoidance and denial seemed to be my only recourse,” was the sheepish response.

This caused Jackson to laugh even harder, “so there are no other problems then?”

“No, in fact I’m feeling rather spoilt. It’s nice to have a woman around the house. I come home at night and there’s dinner waiting, usually a note saying ‘There’s soup on the stove, buns in the oven and a salad in the fridge. Eat it!” the ex preacher confessed with a fond smile.

Warning bells were going off in the dark skinned man’s head, “um Josiah? You're not…” he was unsure if he could go on.

“I’m not what, Nathan?” Sanchez could see the worry in his friend’s eye but wasn’t sure what it was about.

“You’re not feeling more than you should for Adrian, are you?” Jackson asked cautiously.

Josiah stared for a moment, then a rumbling started deep in his chest. Soon it became a chuckle and then a full-blown belly laugh.

The medic could only watch in amazement. This wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

It seemed like forever until Josiah got himself under control, “my friend, there is nothing amorous to the way I feel about Adrian. She’s like a younger sister or daughter to me. Nothing more, I promise you.” Josiah should have been offended but felt oddly flattered instead.

"Well, what about the touching? She's always touching you?" Nathan asked, he was worried about what was going on and was trying desperately to figure it out.

"Nate, it's in her nature to touch. She's doing it all the time. It's a habit. She could no more stop that, than you could stop hovering over us when we're injured." Josiah tried to explain patiently. He was slightly appalled that his best friend could think that something inappropriate was occurring in his home, yet understood the doubts.

“So Adrian's feelings haven't changed?” Nathan pushed.

Josiah’s face fell at the question posed. “Damn, Nathan! She’s so in love with the southern fool, it’s not funny any more,” the profiler ground out, “I’m so ticked with the two of them I want to shake them until their teeth rattle.”

“Did Adrian tell you what happened between them? I mean one minute they're playing house and the next she's living with you. It doesn’t make sense.” Jackson griped.

"Truthfully nothing makes sense. I see two rational, smart individuals making a mess of something that is fundamentally simple. They love each other. Anything else should be easily worked out," Sanchez sighed.

"Is there any solution in sight?" the medic asked.

“Not until they both talk to each other,” the ex preacher sighed. “I’m ready to lock the two of them in a small room and not let them go until they’ve worked it out.”

“Forcing Ezra to talk is a lesson in futility,” Nathan chuckled.

“You’re right, brother. We can’t force them but there has to be some way for them to see the light,” Josiah said.

“Yup. That southern fool is about ready to snap. He’s getting progressively harder to deal with,” Jackson noted.

“I know. Something needs to change, and soon. I’ve tried talking to him but he told me to mind my own business. He's furious with me for Adrian moving in and blames Buck, Vin and JD for bringing her to Denver. As long as she lives in my home, Ez won’t tell me anything,” the big man stated.

“Well I guess, all we can do is watch and be there when he erupts. It won’t be pretty,” the medic agreed, “come on, we've got to get back or Chris will send out the dogs.”

Chuckling, Josiah agreed and they headed back to the office. Both men hoping that the situation with Ezra would somehow resolve itself before it was too late.

~~~~

Ezra felt like he was about to blow apart into jagged fragments; the pieces flying to the farthest ends of the earth. The harder he worked to regain control, the faster it slipped from his grasp. Today was particularly difficult. The southerner found Friday’s the worst. The day was a constant reminder of his life going to hell. Two weeks and his controlled and ordered world, was in a shambles.

He awoke to another mind blowing erotic dream, where Adrian was centre stage. Not only was he waking to these visions every morning, but they were invading his unconscious mind throughout the night. The green-eyed man didn't think he was getting more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep in a row anymore.

Upon entering the elevator at work he was assaulted with the scent of Delaney's perfume. This was a first. Not only did it arouse him, but also, it soured his mood just as quickly. He was mortified at finding himself in the men's facilities, having to relieve himself like a teenager. He was in an absolutely foul mood upon finally arriving in the bullpen.

 ~~~~

The southerner spent the rest of the day working on reports and speaking to various agents. Having to clean up the paperwork from the last assignment was bad enough but to be left out of Team 7's newest, pissed him off. If he'd thought about it logically he would have understood why Larabee hadn't brought him in on the assignment. First, he'd been off on sick leave, recovering from that abysmal undercover assignment gone bad. Consequently, he had none of the preliminary data and necessary background information. Then there was his current mood. It was probably a good thing not being around Teams 4 and 5. But the southerner was beyond rational thought.

Standish didn't hold many teams in high regard. A few of them were full of incompetents who played at being secret agents. They didn't have the wherewithal to be anything but second rate. That didn't hold true for Mason and Tierney's teams. Each man ran a tight ship, and like Larabee, they expected the best from their men. The southerner found it always a pleasure working with these men.

If he was truthful with himself, he did have enough to do with finishing his report, and going over the DEA's paperwork to make sure the idiots hadn't overlooked anything. The undercover man growled, ran his hands through his hair, and read the name of the next person on his contact list. He found that taking his frustrations out on the hapless victim on the other end of the phone did little to reduce his ire. Why couldn't they just give him the information he needed. This was child's play for him. Every time he tried to schmooze the person on the line he felt physically ill. In the end Standish resorted to the Larabee School of Information Gathering. He growled and snapped… a lot.

The rest of the team listened to his conversations, wincing every time Ezra's cultured voice spat out vitriolic threats and comments. Standish was burning contacts left, right and centre. Eventually, he wouldn't be able to talk to anyone ever again.

When JD asked him how he was, he literally and almost figuratively, bit his head off. Even with his own foul mood, it took Larabee intervening for Standish to stop his tirade.

Buck and Vin finally had enough. Watching Ezra lash out at the kid was the straw that broke their back. By mutual agreement, the two men flanked Standish, taking hold of an arm, lifted him to his feet.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Ezra barked, trying to wrestle his arms from their grasp.

"You're comin' with us," Vin said calmly.

"There's no way I'm going with you, so-called gentlemen," Ezra continued to struggle.

"That's where you're wrong, Bubba. You will come with me and Junior, one way or the other. Your choice, but remember, there are two of us," Buck stated, tightening his grip.

Stopping abruptly, the southerner turned and glared at the rogue, "Never call me by that loathsome appellation again or I will be provoked to do you harm," Standish snarled.

Buck looked startled and hastily nodded but didn't relinquish his grip.

It was at that point that Ezra almost gave into his baser instincts and fought but at the last minute, decided against it. He would keep that option open if, and when he decided he didn't like where his so-called friends were taking him.

The agents hauled their colleague towards the elevator, Standish muttering and griping all the way. Once inside, Buck pressed the 2nd floor button but didn't release his grip on the southerner. The elevator doors opened and the trio exited. Walking through a set of double doors, they arrived at their destination.

Ezra tried to balk upon realizing what Vin and Buck intended for him to do but the two used their own momentum to propel the southerner forward.

Ignoring the looks they garnered from the other agents, the two men coerced Ezra into the men's room. Vin released Standish, and moving to his locker, threw the southerner a set of work out clothes. Ensuring that the angry man was disrobing, Buck and Vin changed as well.

While Wilmington and Tanner wore sweat pants and t-shirts,  much to their surprise, Ezra chose to don the shorts, leaving the T-shirt on the bench.

Resigned to his fate, Ezra had changed into the bare minimum and began to flex and warm up his muscles. He didn't notice the surprised and speculative looks he received from his two friends.

Walking back into the gym, the green eyed man cocked an eyebrow at Buck and Vin, "It's your show," he sneered.

Vin sighed, thinking why couldn't things be easy, "we figured you needed to work off some of that anger, pard, before the cowboy killed ya, or Travis fires your ass."

"Junior's right… you need to get a handle on it, Buddy," Buck explained.  "You're liable to do or say something you'll regret later if you don't calm down."  He almost wished Standish would react like Larabee did; get drunk, start a bar fight and sleep it off. That kind of anger Wilmington was used to. If he was honest with himself, Ezra's barely concealed rage frightened him. He knew, with absolute certainty that nothing good would come of it. "So let's get you directing your 'ire' someplace a little safer," he steered Ezra towards the punching bag and waited while Vin grabbed his hands and started taping them.

Approaching the punching bag, a fog descended around Ezra's mind, narrowing his focus. The bag became his enemy, and Standish 'attacked' without mercy. There was no slow build-up, no warming up to get the feel of the equipment, just fury.

Ezra pummeled the bag as two men from Team Three arrived. Frank Miller, surveillance, and Warren Murphy, sharpshooter and self-professed ladies' man, positioned themselves at the punching bag next to Standish. 

Wilmington scoffed, glancing at the fella he called, 'Murph the Smurf'. That name fitting him better than 'Loverboy', the call sign used during operations.

Readying the bag for Murphy, Frank made casual conversation. "Have you met the new woman up in Travis' office, Adrian something or other? Buzz is she's from Canada."

Warren smirked, "Oh yeah! I've met her. She's a tasty dish. It's only a matter of time before I sample her wares."

Seeing Murphy's reaction, Miller questioned, "so you haven't taken her out yet?" The surveillance man had met Travis' secretary that morning while delivering some reports. "Somehow, I don't think you'll find it as easy as you think. She's smart, as well as good-looking. She won't fall for your usual lines."

"I bet I'll be in her hot little panties by the end of next week, at the latest," Murphy boasted confidently.

Vin cringed listening to the two men. He had been using the small bag on his own while Buck was assisting Ezra. Glancing around the two men, Tanner looked to see if Standish had heard. "Shit!" he muttered. He did!

Buck was having a hard time steadying the bag. It was obvious that the mention of Delaney's name had Ezra's newfound calm evaporating. 

Wilmington was livid. One, he never treated a woman that way, and would never think to sully a lady's good name by bragging about her in public. Two, if Miller and Murphy were at all connected to the office 'network' they would know the circumstances of Delaney's arrival. They'd also have found out that Standish was the reason for her being here. The fact that they blatantly tossed her name out in public pissed the rogue off.

Buck caught Tanner's eye and frowned. The sharpshooter looked just as furious as Ezra.

Continuing to pummel the bag, Ezra froze when he heard Warren taunt Buck. "Hey, Wilmington? Have you had a go at Travis' new girl yet?"

Straightening, Ezra stretched and by shifting himself, he was suddenly in Murphy's way and he soon bumped into the southerner.

Warren turned around and sneered, "Watch what you're doing, Standish."

"Ah wasn't the one whose behemoth feet tripped over themselves," Ezra innocently replied. Here was someone he could hit. He wouldn't be able to lash out at his teammates, but Murphy was a viable option.

"Why don't you put your mitts where your mouth is," Murphy taunted.

Vin and Buck tried to catch Warren's eye and warn him off.

"Why don't we take it into the arena," Ezra's bland face belying his eagerness to get Murphy into the ring.

Ignoring the warning looks of Wilmington and Tanner, Frank started to tape some gloves on Warren's hands.

Ezra's feral grin made Vin wince but he soon had the southerner's gloves on too. Standish gave the punching bag a few practice hits to ensure that they would do their job, then nodding for Buck to pull the ropes apart, he stepped into the ring.

Vin watched as Ezra gave a bit of a bounce on the balls of his feet and rolled his head and shoulders. It looked to the Texan that the southerner knew what he was doing. Tanner jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Chris standing beside him along with Ryan Kelly, leader of Team Eight.

The man in black had been edgy and evasive all day; consequently he looked like he was ready to join southerner in the ring. Vin suspected that it might have something to do with the fact that Kate had left work as soon as Chris came in. Something obviously wasn't right with the new lovers and he had his own suspicions about Lansky, but being a smart man, the sharpshooter wasn't ready to say anything.

"What's going on, Vin?" Larabee demanded.

"Ez and Murphy are going to go a few rounds," Vin replied as he looked towards the two men about to pummel each other.

"And you didn't try to stop this?" Kelly asked. He'd heard the rumours about Standish's behaviour and uncharacteristic anger and had an ill feeling about it.

"Well, hell, we tried to warn Murphy off but he wasn't listening. Besides, ole Ez needs to let off some steam. He'll be ok. Our boy’s pretty good with the bag," Wilmington put his two cents worth.

Larabee watched the ring and couldn't help but agree with Kelly, this was going to end badly.

Cockily grinning at the two men in the arena, Frank taunted Standish and told Murphy to show him how it was done.

Warren nodded and moved in to engage Standish. He had just reached the southerner when Ezra 's right fist flashed out, catching Murphy in the jaw. Bouncing away, the green-eyed man waited to see what his opponent was going to do next. Murphy rolled his jaw and uncertainty flashed across his features. He wasn't so sure that this was such a good idea anymore. He was pretty certain that Standish had pulled his punch at the last second but it still felt like he had been hit with a hammer. Unfortunately, his pride wouldn't let him stop the match.

Ezra felt good. That first strike against Murphy unleashed all his anger and he let it have free reign. He advanced again and incorporated the training he received in college as well as the instruction he got at a little gym in Purgatory. He had never told anyone, though he suspected that Tanner knew, but for the last two years he had been working out at the rundown facility.

The wealth of knowledge he got from the grizzled owner was invaluable. Mordecai used to be a professional boxer in his youth, and when he retired some fifteen years ago, he purchased the gym and began teaching the young people in the neighborhood.

Ezra was introduced to the older man when he had contacted a snitch and the 'meet' went sour. Standish had held his own against the two men who were attacking him, but when two others joined the fray, he knew he was in trouble.

Mordecai Samuels came out of nowhere and stepped in to help the agent. Before long, the two men had the situation under control and the attackers subdued and ready for the police. Standish, extremely grateful for the assist, had offered monetary recompense, but the old man refused. Instead, Samuels had countered and offered to clean up the southerner's technique. Ezra had been working out at Mordecai's ever since. Standish helped out a couple of times a week, by sparing with the up and comers. The old man became a friend as well as a teacher.

Murphy decided to try to do as much damage as he possibly could before the match was declared over. He had wanted to mess up Standish's 'pretty face' but try as he might, the wily undercover man never stayed in one place. By the time he swung at Ezra's head, it had moved. The only hits that managed to connect were body shots, which the southerner seemed to absorb without thought.

For his part, Standish was a dervish of movement. He never stayed put and managed to keep Murphy in the centre of the ring, where he could do the most damage.

Seeing the frustration mounting in his opponent, the green-eyed man knew he should end it quickly. He was about to stand down when Frank yelled at Warren to keep his gloves up or else he'd never get in Travis' secretary's pants.

Ezra saw red. He had never understood that cliché until now. His entire focus narrowed once again and the predator that dwells within every man came to the fore and he exploded.

Never giving an inch, Ezra punched and pummeled Murphy. His fists became a flurry and the other man never had a chance to protect himself.

Standish no longer knew where he was or what he was doing; the only thought in his mind was that a rival was after his woman.

Vin saw the instant when Ezra lost control. Cursing, he nudged Larabee.

Chris, too, was aware of what had just occurred and motioned Wilmington to approach the ring.

The three men barely managed to drag Standish off of Murphy. Chris had the brief thought that they might have to take him down, knock the southerner out somehow.

Just as quick as Ezra blew, he calmed. He stood with his teammates and slowly; sanity crept back into his eyes. His chest heaving, he took in the scene before him. Murphy looked like a truck had hit him. His face was beaten to a pulp; both eyes had swollen shut, a cut above one brow bleeding profusely, in need of a stitch or two. His torso was starting to bruise a deep black and blue. He wasn't able to walk unassisted.

Standish was horrified.

"What the hell happened?" Larabee hissed. He was going to continue the tirade until he got a look at Ezra's face. He quickly realized that his agent was just as surprised as he was. He cursed again and was about to haul the man away when the southerner spun around and while seemingly calm and unconcerned, Larabee got the impression that he was fleeing.

Ezra's only thought was that he had to get out of there. Barely managing to maintain his famed blank expression, he entered the change room and grabbing a towel and bar of soap, marched off to the shower.

Stripping down, he turned the water on as hot as he could stand it. His mind was numbing as the hot water soothed his tense muscles. Upon reflection, he knew he could have killed Murphy and didn't know where his restraint came from. He had never felt this out of control before. All the lessons drilled into him from infancy were slipping away. His mother would be so disappointed in him.

Toweling off, he quickly dressed and managed to slip away unseen. There was no way he was going to stick around and get his ass chewed out by Larabee, no matter how much he deserved it. He took the stairs to the seventh floor and without looking at the rest of his teammates, grabbed his jacket and left

Again he took the stairs and thought that he had successfully managed to elude any searchers, when his pager went off. Digging into his pocket Ezra pulled it out and cursed as he read the display. He was to report to Travis' office for a team meeting. "No way in hell," he muttered to himself. There was no way he was going to go back upstairs and have to face his co-workers. Forget the fact that Adrian is there. 'She can't see me like this,' he thought to himself and hurried the rest of the way downstairs.

Arriving at the garage, he climbed into the Jag and let the serenity that seemed to pervade the vehicle, wrap itself around him.

Aimlessly driving around the city, he was surprised to find himself outside The Saloon. Deciding it was time to drown his 'sorrows' he went straight to the bar and ordered a bottle of whiskey. He grimaced as the first shot slid down his throat, at the same time relishing the burn.

Engaging in a brief conversation, he ignored the concerned looks that Miss Recillos gave him and concentrated on the amber liquid before him.

An hour later Ezra was feeling no pain. His heart and mind were deadened. Though not drunk, he was far from sober. He never registered someone joining him until a slender arm reached over and took his bottle.

Prepared to do battle, he turned his head to see who had the effrontery to nick his booze. He met the blue-eyed gaze of Kate Lansky and relaxed his guard. Barely acknowledging her presence he went back to his own glass. He neither knew nor cared about the reason she was here, just that she leave him alone.

The two sat and ignored the rest of the world.

TBC  

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