Claire couldn't see the driver's face, sitting behind him as she was.  If she had, she'd have been more prepared for what happened when they got to his house.  Mark got out of the car and began to head toward his house.  She stumbled out after him and had barely closed the car door behind her when the driver pulled away.  No fare, no tip was worth the trouble these two seemed to provide.<br/><br/>Mark's vitriol combined with the quickly departing Uber left Claire confused, her mouth falling open as she tried to figure out what the hell just happened.  In her tipsy mind, the car was supposed to wait while she gave him a piece of her mind then take her home.  Except that wasn't what happened.<br/><br/>Claire huffed indignantly and squared her shoulders.  "You are the last person on this planet I want to get my jollies with!" she yelled at his retreating back.  Feeling satisfied that she'd gotten in the last word, she pulled out her phone to request another Uber.  "You have got to be fucking kidding me," she grumbled at the screen.  The closest car was at least thirty minutes away.<br/><br/>She was<i>not</i>going to give him the satisfaction of asking if she could wait for her ride at his place.  The tipsy stubborn journalist stayed right where she was, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her toes impatiently on the ground.  She checked her watch; thirty minutes was going to take forever.