Tokyo Bound

Clyde stepped out of the cafeteria and shrugged off some of the looks he got from some of the folks, grimacing at the unwanted attention, he debated about bugging Mercy at work but decided he wanted to go chill alone now. He wasn't sure if he was the one at fault but wasn't in the mood to find out.

Pulling on the hem of his suit jacket to smooth it out, Clyde began to make his way down the hall to find the exit and skedaddle out this joint.

Clyde was just heading outside the cafeteria, figuring he'd slip out and go before his guilt over the Cassie situation came over. Hopefully John wouldn't hold it against him, but Clyde sort of expected him too. Cassie was a cutie after all.

Turning the corner, Clyde would see the exit down the hall and was about to make his way out before he heard a familiar voice near him. He turned his head to spot an old flame leaning against the wall, giving a cold glare. Clyde's eyes raised up nonchalant, surprising to see Heather and more surprised to hear that she was calling him out for his comment.

He looked at her for just a second before he began to smirk coyly.

"Oh hey, honey! Did ya finally stop bein' all thick headed and finally listen to somebody fer once?" He asked with a smug, shit-eating grin as he began to loosen the tie around his neck.

Clyde lifted up his chin smugly at Heather like he was just trying to rub in his douchyness to her, because in his mind, she deserved every single bit of it. But perhaps the craziest thing was why Heather just couldn't seem to grasp why he was acting this way. Maybe he was still on edge over the Bonnie Situation but the truth of the matter was, she didn't understand. That was upsetting.

He scoffed at her words. "You're as clueless as ever... Or good at playin' dumb. I still live in the apartment that was once yours. My cell number ain't changed at all. You've had a good couple of months to tell this ol' cowboy here that you're sorry for fuckin' my damn face and humiliating me on live TV!" Clyde spat accusingly as he pointed his finger at Heather.

"I ain't stuttered one bit in the cafeteria, baby. You used me durin' that match and you didn't give a damn whatcha did to me. You just enjoyed it. So I'll say it again because you can't seem to understand where I'm comin' from." Clyde would add as he learned forward and sneered, curling up his lip like he was trying to channel Billy idol of all people.

"Yer a sadistic bitch."

Clyde huffed bitterly as Heather expressed her feelings and regrets. Hearing it all just made his brow raise in irritation. "Pft. Did she expect me ta' be okay with getting face fucked by her?" He thought to himself, unable to understand how she didn't think of the potential consequences. And even if she didn't, it wasn't much of an excuse in his eyes.

He scoffed further at her next comment. That he was intent on hating her. It made Clyde sneer with near arrogance towards her because she could not understand. He just let her yell back at him, thinking over all the feelings she expressed over the incident while her eyes watered. It made Clyde a bit weary but he kept telling himself over and over that she was lying. He remained apathetic to her claims and stood there to take the brunt of the hard slap that stuck his cheek. A hard echoing smack that knocked Clyde's head to the side, his hair whipping along to the side, a red imprint stained on the side of his cheek.

The lobby was quiet. And people were staring now. Clyde didn't say a word after being stuck, he just trained to Heather with a blank expression and looked to her for a moment before he began to grin out the corner of his mouth. "Ya' sure know how ta' make it sting real good, baby." He taunted, acting like he enjoyed it. It stung like hell though.

"You're lyin', Heather. It was easy for you ta' just use me over and over. Even when I wanted to give up, you still kept on going till I had to kiss yo' dirty fat ass ta' end it. You'll do this sort of thing ta' anyone and I ain't no different in your eyes. Even after all we've been through... Right?" He said, putting emphasis on a set of words she had used. He did not believe her one bit. She just wanted to use him.