Her assessment of the fight was spot on, and Samuel found he had no trouble admitting it - inwardly, at least. His only immediate outward response was a far less labored laugh and a fervent, if dizzy, nod of his head. He wondered just how bad the damage would be when the bruises started to turn. That jaundiced yellow color had never been flattering on him, but at least it would be well earned. And now that he had her name, the odds of being mocked by his co-workers for the loss had turned significantly in his favor. He doubted, after all, any of them would have fared much better.
"Riley Harlow? No shit." He drew a deep breath, a faint and bemused laugh escaping him on a lengthy exhalation. "Well now I know where I've seen you before. I heard about the Bernard fight. That was something else, or so they said."
He nodded weakly, a sort of gracious introduction now that the sharks had thoroughly circled and some tenuous sense of amicability established. "Sergeant Samuel Wolfe. Pleasure to meet you. Can I buy you a drink or something? Whey protein shake, whatever the hell you pros indulge in."
(np hon! I had to go to bed anyway LOL I'm slack!)