Eliza was livid and for just a moment her emotions took over the cool exterior she portrayed in everyday life. She smelt of damn awful beer, she could feel it sinking into her toes, urgh, another reason she hated sports writing, the beer drinkers. She noticed he wasn't fully confident on his feet and Eliza slowly remembered why she was here, his career is over, his career is over. Show him some sympathy.<br/><br/>She stormed over to the hose, taking her shoes off and hosed them down then began hosing the coffee off the dock, one of two choice cursed words circled her mind but she managed to keep them at bay. Water sprayed over her accidentally as she turned it off, and she cursed herself, "Fuck".<br/><br/>On board the house boat it was a rich aroma of fried meat and beer, she spotted a couple of beer bottles and realised her mistake with the Budweiser. She walked to the fridge without a word, pulling out the steak to rest on the counter, "How do you take your steak, and fried egg or scrambled?", she asked him. She took his advice and began to cook, hoping he would at least find clean cutlery and a plate. She served his steak perfectly how he had asked, Eliza was a pretty decent cook when she had the time, due to her ex who had been a top chef.<br/><br/>She sat down opposite him as he ate, and took a few deep breaths. "When you are finished, I guess my first question is why do you live here?", she looked around the house boat, he must have had a pretty good final pay off after the injury so she assumed he'd drunk the cash or was saving for something.