After Claire told a white lie to Lucy about calling her brother to escape questioning, she took the elevator to the 22nd floor, as high as it would go. It looked just like her floor, full of doors. Certainly not a roof. She wandered down the hallway until she found the staircase, and cautiously walked up. There was a door slightly ajar and she squeezed through as silently as possible. She couldn't deny she was a little spooked, until she saw Ambrose standing away to the right, mumbling to himself. "Hey," she said, casual, as if she hadn't been pissed at him a matter of hours ago. He turned at hearing her voice. "Hey," he said, taking her in. She was wearing her Goofy pajama pants and her Penguins hoodie. "Didn't feel the need to get dressed?" he questioned. Claire remained stoic. "Well I'm not experienced with the required dress code for a midnight rooftop rendezvous so I dressed for comfort." Ambrose took a step closer to her. "Have you been crying?" he asked. Claire blinked. "We've just watched Armageddon, and if you don't cry when Bruce Willis says he's going to die saving to world so Ben Affleck can marry his daughter, then you have no heart." They both smiled, with Ambrose letting out a gentle scoff. Claire knew it wouldn't be his type of thing.
"Look," he started. "I wanted to apologise. I overreacted in the club and I was out of line. I'm sorry." He was looking at the ground, and Claire could tell this made him uneasy. "Well, if it helps, I was going to say the same to you." His eyes lifted to her with surprise. "You were just trying to look out for me and I shouldn't have overreacted like that. I'd have been wonderfully grateful had it actually been worse than it was, so I shouldn't be so quick to dismiss your efforts." A period of silence followed, before Ambrose asked "Why were you so angry about it? I've never heard that tone in your voice before." Claire shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I've spent the last few hours asking the same thing. Maybe because you brought up the dancing thing, you baited me, and then seemed so furious that the guy I'd danced with was interested. That was a product of what you'd asked for. Cos I knew what you were doing, diverting the attention away from yourself. That's why you told them I could dance." Ambrose nodded slowly, but added "Well you didn't have to dance like that." Claire raised her eyebrows. "Like what?" Ambrose threw his arms out. "All... sexy. Letting him touch you and grind into you. No wonder the poor guy tried his luck." Claire tried to remain calm; as a grown woman she had full freedom in her choices, thank you very much. "So tell me," she said with a pointed tone in her voice, "what does it matter to you how I dance with strange men I've met in clubs, huh?" She saw him pause, and his arms dropped to his sides defeatedly. He sighed heavily, and she watched his face soften, avoiding eye contact with her. Claire was trying to read his expression, before he began to speak. "I don't know. But it does, evidently." Claire watched him. He looked so uncomfortable she wouldn't have put it past him to leave. He was pacing and ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, here's the thing. You and I, I don't know what is going on. Two months ago, if you'd asked me, I wouldn't have changed a thing. I was happy. But now, when I spend time with you, I'm happier than that benchmark. I can't put a finger on it, but the word that comes to mind is... addictive. Spending time with you is addictive." Claire looked at him, eyes wide, then quickly at her feet. What is happening...? Her mind was blank. She wasn't used to having nothing to say but she couldn't find any words. This wasn't what she thought it was, surely. It couldn't be. Ambrose continued. "And I have racked my brain about this for the last week. Trying to work out why there's been a smile on my face more than usual. How you make me want to tell you everything. Why I want to be where you are. And I've not been able to find a proper answer. And then I saw you with that guy and I got angry. I got angry because…" He trailed off. He took a heavy breath and continued. "Because I was jealous." With that, he looked up at Claire. Their eyes met and Claire felt her pulse quicken. Her palms got sweaty. Her mind was racing a million miles an hour. This can't be happening, she thought. He can't be interested in me. He has a type, and I'm not it. As she was trying to process what had happened, Ambrose closed his eyes in frustration. "For Christ's sake Claire, say something. Please!" Her eyes darted away from his face, and then back to it. And without even thinking, she blurted out the thing which had been gnawing away at her all day. "Zane's changing me to the other rotation."
Ambrose heard the words but didn't immediately register what they meant. "What?" he asked. Claire repeated herself. "He's changing the staffing schedule for the rotations. I won't be in Worchester this weekend. I'll be in Albany." This time, the message got through. I'm not going to see her this weekend. He felt his breathing get a little quicker. "Permanently?" he asked. She hardly moved. "Indefinitely, that was his word." That punk. "Why?" Claire looked at him quickly, and he thought he saw a brief flash of sadness in her eyes. "He was impressed at the work I did over the weekend by myself. He said I totally outperformed Lucy and Carl on the other rotation and he wants to reward my work by putting me on the champion rotation." But I'm a champion…, he thought angrily. He didn't like what he was hearing. Not at all. When he invited her up here to chat, to say what he's been thinking, he knew he wouldn't be able to find the words to express his messed up thoughts, and knew there was the potential it wouldn't go well. But he hadn't predicted this. This was definitely not going well. "So did you say no?" Claire was looking out to the city, biting her lip. There was a moment or two of silence, before she turned to look at him. He felt her eyes piercing through his with genuine intention. "Do I have a reason to say no?" He found his mouth dry all of a sudden. His heart pumped a little bit faster. He'd revealed he had feelings for her, in his own messed up way. Now he had to do it again, in a way to convince her to stay with him. "That depends. On what you think of what I just said."
Claire sat down on a concrete slab and rubbed her temples. Ambrose didn't know what to think. She certainly didn't look like someone who was over moon to hear a man was interested in her. "Look," she began, "when I came here, I didn't intend on being with anyone in the company. Not that I flattered myself to think anyone would be interested, but I didn't come here to sleep my way around. I came here because this was the break I had been waiting for. I hauled ass at HQ and I didn't want any of the work I did here to be undermined by sleeping with someone. I didn't think it would look good to my bosses if I started seeing someone I worked with." Ambrose sighed gently. He couldn't fault her dedication to her job, and how determined she was to succeed. But she obviously didn't get it. "Don't you see how incestuous this place is? Working for this company you can't have a normal life. If you're trying to meet someone, you don't meet them outside the WWE. Or if you do, you can't maintain that, seeing them two days a week. Don't worry yourself about that. Even the boss' daughter couldn't stop it." He hoped mentioning Stephanie would work. He knew how much Claire respected her. She put her chin on her hand and exhaled loudly. Say something, Claire¸ he willed. Say something about me. "And now you've just dropped that bomb and I have to reassess that policy," she said, looking up at him. She looked so confused. I feel ya, girl. He hadn't thought she would be so blindsided by his revelation; he was sure she would've noticed how different he was around her, and the electricity that seemed to bounce between them at times. But he was beginning to realise she hadn't even entertained it, due to a relationship not being on her radar. "So," he said tentatively, sitting down beside her. "Does that mean you're interested?" After a short paused, she scoffed slightly. "Well, I don't make a habit of meeting men on hotel rooftops at 1am, you know. So there must be a reason I want to be here with you." A wry smile appeared on her face as she turned towards him. He felt a weight lift from his lungs, and returned her grin.
They sat in silence for a minute or two, looking out at the city lights. "Tell me something," Claire said. He turned to look at her. "What is it you're after?" You. That was the first thing that popped into his head. But now it was time for more emotional outpouring, which he was neither well-versed in or comfortable with. "I'm no good with words, Claire. Not like this. Stick me in front of 25,000 people every night with a microphone and I'm fine. But one on one, like this, talking about emotions and shit. I don't have it." She nodded knowingly. She understood him. "That said," he started, "this is what I've been thinking about for the past couple of weeks. What's different." There was a pause. "I can only think of a really male way to say this…. You have every reason to be weary of my past. I made the bed for that one. I can't run from it. But what I said the other night, about turning over a new leaf and all that shit, I meant it. I'd been thinking about it even before you came along, because turning 30 with no substantial relationship to my name made me question my priorities and what I wanted in the future. I've always thought that the whole wife and kids and dog and house thing would just happen without really noticing. But I realised that with the lifestyle I had, it wasn't likely. So, what I'm after?" He screwed his nose up as he tried to think of a better way to phrase it, but he drew blank. Watch out, here comes the crass. "In the past, girls have only been about one thing. But then I met you, and it's different. It's not just about pleasing my cock, you make the rest of me feel good." He watched, expecting Claire to be disturbed by the way that came out. But she didn't seem to be. In fact, she looked like she was blushing. "Really?" she asked him. He pleaded that his face would show her how genuine he was. "I know you have no reason to trust me. But it's true." She nodded slowly, then turned back to look towards the city. "Actually, I have no reason to distrust you. Yes, you have a history, but you've never done anything to me to make me think you can't be trusted," she said. Ambrose agreed. Ever since he'd realised Claire was different he had tried to be on his best behaviour. And intended to stay that way. Because she deserved someone who respected her, treated her well. No matter what this was, he knew he'd do his best to treat her well. If she lets me. And that was the big question.
After a period of silence, Ambrose couldn't take it any longer. He reached his arm out, palm upturned, a silent request for Claire's hand. She looked at his face first, and he smiled softly. He watched as she shook the long sleeve of her hoodie down to reveal her hand, and he felt the warmth of her fingers shoot through him as she laced them through his. Her skin felt so warm and soft against his cold, callused hands. This is why it's different, he wanted to tell her. I could never find the words, but I wish I could tell her how good this feels. He laughed at himself. He'd not been this excited about holding a girl's hand since he was 11. Claire just made the simple things feel good. He had an idea. "Look, I know you have some things to consider. I'm not going to pressure you into anything. But I'll make you a promise." He looked her right in the eye. "I promise you I'll show you I mean it. That it's different. That you're different." Claire smiled and it took everything he had to not lean forward and kiss her. Good things come to those who wait, he thought. And those who earn it.