When he’d wandered away—or, stalked off as she had seen it—she tried her best to stretch out. One leg up on the bar, she leaned over resting her forehead to her knee and trying to breath, but everything felt so tight. Something that had been second nature to her now felt like it hurt, pulling at every muscle from the bottom of her foot, up through her leg and into her back. A hard frown set in, hand grasping at the bottom of her foot and trying to pull it up with her as she straightened, only to find herself faltering and nearly falling over.<br/><br/>Mumbling beneath her breath, she tried again with the other leg. Only marginally better than she’d been the first time around, Tempest decided to lay on the floor and try it that way, the look of frustration on her face setting in deeper and deeper every minute. Watching off to the side, a few people were whispering, pointing, which had her narrowing her eyes, closing them all together after a moment.<span style="font-style: italic">Focus, Tempest,</span>she told herself.<span style="font-style: italic">Don’t let him get to you. You want this more than anything, right? Why are you going to let a pompous asshole ruin that for you? Focus on the dance, like you told him you would.</span><br/><br/>A nod was given, even though only to herself as she resumed stretching out, and then another thought added itself in.<span style="font-style: italic">Don’t prove Colt right.</span>Confused, she sat up, rolling through her splits. Colt? Why did she suddenly care what Colt thought of all of this?<span style="font-style: italic">You told him that this wouldn’t be an issue, that it wouldn’t ruin the company or your collective chances with the company. This argument, if he caught wind of it, would only cause another issue…one you wouldn’t be able to refute this time around.</span>Grumbling, she wrinkled her nose and stood, bending over and grasping her ankles.<span style="font-style: italic">The last thing I need is two arguments on my hands…</span><br/><br/>Sighing, she stood, rolling her shoulders and taking stock of those who lingered around the stage. From what she saw, Colt wasn’t there, which meant he didn’t witness the fight. That was good, at least. Rumors were far easier to refute if the incident wasn’t witnessed firsthand, right?<br/><br/>But, that small silver lining went out the window as Athan came striding back out. His reflection greeted her and she pretended not to care that he was coming over, pretended like the fight they’d had hadn’t just taken place. No, she continued on with what she’d been doing, step-through warm-ups, working on the lines she created with her arms and pointing her toes. So, when he came over and said they needed to talk, she didn’t even look up at him right off, or glance in his direction.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“We need to talk.”</span>That phrase was a death sentence when it came to any sort of coming conversation. No one ever said it before a good conversation, not once. It just wasn’t done.<br/><br/>“Ready to be honest with me yet?” she asked in casual fashion, glancing at him over her shoulder as her movements continued.