Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, the rest are of my own creation.
Reviews and constructive criticisms welcome.
She sat at the small kitchen-turned-dining table laden with silverware and a candle and watched as the clock made its slow march to the hour. She drank deeply from her glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and sighed internally.
When he had called earlier in the week to announce that he would be in town on business and that they should have dinner, they agreed on 7 o'clock. Knowing that Victor had a penchant for being late, and thus the decision to eat at her place instead of a restaurant, she began to prepare the meal at eight.
By nine, she had kicked off her heels, and by ten, she had finished her own portion and began her second glass of wine. She was tired and had to work in the morning.
The clock chimed 11 and Emma rose to clear the dishes and blow out the candles. She swept his cold and dried out steak into the garbage, put the dishes into the dishwasher, slipped her heels back on and lugged the garbage bag out and down the hall to the chute.
As the chute door snapped shut hungrily over the scraps, the elevator doors announced an arrival on her floor and hissed open. She walked around the soft corner to find his tall, brute frame standing there in a dark suit which three hours ago, would have looked clean and pressed and fresh, but now looked wrinkled and torn. A large boot print in dirt shining on the back of the jacket and bright red blood, not yet tacky, oozed from an already healed scalp wound.
He gave her a quizzical look at her appearance in the hallway when her flat was in the opposite direction. In answer to the question that wasn't asked, Emma hitched her thumb behind her towards the garbage chute and replied, "I was just throwing out your dinner."
Victor raised a trampled bouquet of hybrid lilies the colour of a sunset and grumpily said, "I'm late."
"You're late." She echoed. They stood another minute awkwardly staring at each other until she stepped forward and led him back to her condo.