Sal stood before her closet, a slight frown on her face. Owen had dropped her off two hours ago after a lovely day, and ever since she'd been prepping for her 'date' with Michael. She had showered, done her hair and make-up, and now she was standing in her bra and undies, puzzling over what to wear.
It was always a challenge with Michael, deciding what to wear out with him. His tastes changed hourly, and so did his expectations. In all honesty, he was a bit of a wanker, but Sal didn't really mind much. She enjoyed the easiness of it, never having to act ladylike or polite.
But the clothing was not as easy. Finally she decided on a shortish dress, dark blue with tight long sleeves and a deep scoop-neck that accentuated her collarbone. Modest and classy, yet alluring. Sal threw on a double roped strand of pearls, pulled on a pair of cream pumps, and grabbed her gold clutch. She threw her phone into the clutch- but not her money, as she knew from experience that if she had some, she'd end up paying for dinner.
Michael was surprisingly prompt, ringing her doorbell at exactly nine. Sal threw on her leather dress coat and answered the door.
Her ex stood at the door, dressed in nice jeans, a button down, and a waistcoat and tie. "Hey babe." Michael grinned. "You look good."
"So do you." Sal was actually quite surprised by Michael's snappy appearance. He usually limited himself to ratty old jeans and band t-shirts. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get on my good side."
"Well maybe I am." Michael grinned his smooth grin again and held out an arm.
Sal took it, shutting the door behind her. They walked out to Michael's car, where he held the door open for her. Sal raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but accepted anyways. Michael was gentlemanly all night, holding out chairs, and complimenting her, and doing everything right. He even payed for dinner without asking Sal for a contribution.
As they got to Michael's place, Sal piped up about her ex's behavior. "You've been so gentlemanly all night. It makes me nervous."
"Why?" Michael looked down at the young woman.
Sal snorted. "Because you have never been this nice to me in the whole time we've known each other."
"That is true." Michael fell silent as he opened his door.
"Fine, don't explain." Sal muttered, walking into Michael's flat.
"Can't you just accept that I'm being nice? I-"
Sal put a finger to Michael's lips, shushing his rambling. "I was just teasing."
"Oh." Michael smiled widely.
"Git." Sal smiled.
"You like it. And for your information, maybe I like being nice to you." Michael smirked deviously, sliding his arms around Sal's waist.
"Well, maybe." Sal pushed Michael back against the door, mimicking his mischievous look. "I thought you were just trying to get into my pants."
"I don't need to be gentlemanly for that." Michael leaned down and forcefully kissed Sal, who gladly reciprocated.
"Am I that predictable?" Sal murmured against her companion's lips, pushing her hips into his.
Michael moaned softly at the contact, and pulled Sal even more tightly against him. "Yes, I think you are."
Sal smiled, running her hand over her ex's chest. She felt something under her hand, rectangular and flat, and pulled it from his breast pocket. "What's this?" She inspected the card. "'Michael Dan, Investigative Reporter'. Well that's a bit posh, isn't it?"
"Give that back." Michael's voice was oddly urgent.
"Why? What if I need some investigative reporting?" Sal laughed at Michael, pushing him away lightly.
"Just give it back!" He grabbed the card from her and pushed her back, hard.
Sal slammed against the wall, shocked. "What the bloody hell was that for?" She grabbed the card back. "Is there something you don't want me to see?" Before Michael could snatch the card, she read "'Specializing in Aliens and the Supernatural'." Sal's heart froze. Was he onto Torchwood? "What kind of bollocks is this?"
"I said, it's nothing." Michael's voice was dangerously low as he grabbed the card back and shoved it in his pocket. "Now," he said, pushing Sal back against the wall, "where were we?"
"Nowhere!" Sal pushed Michael off of her, "Not if you're just going to treat me like that."
Michael pushed her back into the wall again, holding her down. "I said, where were we?"
Sal stomped down hard on Michael's left foot, causing him to stagger and loosen his his hold on her. She extricated herself from his grip and ran over to her coat and clutch.
Before Sal could gather her things, though, Michael grabbed her arm. He spun her around to face him, his eyes boiling with an irrational anger. Sal attempted to pull her arm out of her ex's grip, but he held tight. "Goddamn it, Michael, what is your fucking problem?"
Michael didn't respond, keeping a stony face as he clenched her arm.
Thoroughly angry now, Sal reached up and slapped Michael hard across the face with a loud crack. He swore loudly as his head snapped violently to the side.
The older man let go of Sal's arm, but attempted to slap her back before she could get away. Sal dodged the slap, but lost her balance and stumbled into the sofa. Michael took advantage of her weakness and picked Sal up by her shoulders.
Michael pulled back a fist and swung it towards Sal's jaw, his other hand holding tight onto the back of his ex's neck. Sal managed to block the punch, setting Michael off-balance. She began to scratch at Michael's face, leaving long red lines across his round face.
Michael grabbed Sal's wrists and pulled her hands away from his face, swearing violently. He shoved her back, causing the petit young woman to fall backwards over the sofa and into the iron-framed coffee table. There was a smash and a loud crack as Sal's left arm crashed into the table, shattering the glass and bouncing off the frame. She screamed, cradling her arm to her chest, silently cursing herself for not bringing a weapon of some kind.
The man stormed around the sofa and took a moment to stand over Sal and admire his handiwork. He stood for a second too long, and Sal took her opportunity, kicking her leg high off the ground and slammed her foot into her ex's groin.
Michael sunk to the ground immediately, groaning in pain. Sal took advantage of his distraction and clambered up, rushing back over to her coat and clutch. She grabbed them both and ran out of the flat.
When Sal had made it down the stairs and out the building, she sank against the wall. Shaking, Sal pulled out her clutch and grabbed her phone, dialing the only number she could think of.
The number rang through to answering the first time, but she dialed again and Owen picked up on the first ring.
"Owen?"
"Oh, hey, Sal. What's going on?" Owen sounded groggy, like he had been sleeping.
"Um, I hate to bother you, but-" Sal's voice choked up at the agony radiating from her arm and she had to pause for a moment to regain composure. "I don't have my car, and I don't have any money with me for a taxi, but I-"
"Where are you?" Owen sounded concerned, and immediately more alert.
"On Third and Main." Sal's voice was audibly trembling now.
"I'll be right there- don't move."
