He didn't say anything as she walked out, though her words stung. As soon as she was out of the door, he threw it closed, then proceeded to pace around the room, fuming. That hadn't been how he wanted the night to go, and now? What was he going to do? Would she ever speak to him again?
He didn't know. And at that moment he didn't care. He growled with frustration, then turned on the untouched dinner on the table. With a roar he lunged, grabbing the small table and flipping it over. Food and wine fell all over the floor, but he didn't give a shit. Oc could lick it up if he liked. Atlas just needed to not be there anymore. Everything smelled like her, and that was the last thing he wanted to smell. He knew it would pass. He still wanted her, just not right then.
Heading for the door, he slammed it behind him and headed for the stairs. He climbed quickly, and was soon on the rooftop. Laying on the least slanted area he could find, he looked out over the lights of the city, not being able to think of anything except the time that he and Minerva were up there together, kissing under the stars after she first found out about his past.
Whatever. Fuck her. He didn't need her. . . Except that he did.