Eliza saw the shotgun pointed in her direction before she registered the words coming from Marks mouth, her mouth was suddenly very dry and it took all of her strength not to run, dropping the beers and coffee on the deck along with the doughnuts. She looked down at the barrel pointed towards her as he spoke, her immediate thought was to run and not come back, crazy fucking psycho footballers, all the fucking same, THIS was why she didn't write sports, she thought to herself.<br/><br/>Her palms felt sweaty, her mouth was dry, she stood staring at him, Eliza needed this story, her future depended on it, she would not go back and Charlie take that job, it was her job. However she was frozen, staring at a crazy man with a shotgun, a drunk, the smell of lager rose through the air. Eliza alert mind was spinning with thoughts of how to best approach the situation, she looked towards him, "Shoot", she replied. Her heart was pounding and she knew her voice was shaky.<br/><br/>She stood straight, "I'm not here for your name on a piece of paper, and I don't think anyone wants to hear the story of a drunken man with a shotgun, I'm guessing you don't get much female company, and one comes to see you with refreshments", she shakes the bag of doughnuts a little, "And you greet her with a shotgun....so shoot", she eyed him, fear all over her face, but her words saying the opposite to her actions. She closed her eyes praying that she wasn't about to receive a sharp pain in her knee.<br/><br/>Eliza looked towards the men that had directed her here, "I mean, you have witnesses just over there, but hey, if you'd rather be imprisoned that share breakfast with me, that's your call", she added with slightly more confidence.