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For a second, Imara considered taking the envelope, ripping it up, and throwing it back in his face. Maybe for three seconds even and she would have if she had not been counting all the while.

Anger to a calm reserve. Yes she had indeed hit a nerve more painful than it was insulting even if that had not been her intention. No love was lost between this man and Ned White.

So while she did not apologize to him, Imara did reach out and take the envelope between her own fingers before sliding it into her back pocket. "Alright. Now can we be considered even?"

Through pursed lips, Imara offered him a nod and motioned towards the door. It was getting late and frankly, she wanted to go home to the beer in her fridge and a shower.

Maybe two beers.

"Good Night, Mr. White." Imara offered then, lowering her hand to reach behind and pull out her keys. Once he was out the door, she was locking it and then finishing up herself before leaving.

All she could hope was that they had counted the bar stock correctly this time.

With an eye roll the size of Texas, Imara pushed the door closed behind him and locked it for the night. Two seconds was all she allowed to make sure he kept walking before she started turning out lights and making sure all of the tasks for the evening were completed.

By the time she kicked her own apartment door closed behind her, bolted it shut and kicked off her shoes, it was well after one in the morning. To save time and get to bed faster, Imara decided to mix beer and shower. No one ever said you couldn't drink and wash your hair.

The multitasking got her into bed faster and she was just about to turn off the light when something white caught her eye in the pile of clothes she had discarded to deal with tomorrow.

"Oh. That..." She groaned and considered ignoring it but something about it bothered her. So rising once more, she grabbed the envelope and sat back on her bed. Ripping it open, she was slightly taken aback by the thickness of the paper inside. What really surprised her, no shocked her, was what was on the paper.

An image of her, mid-throw, glaring down the viewer.

There was a quick second of amusment followed by a sigh of annoyance at it all. But, Imara had to admit that the man had talent. She didn't look like a stick figure.

Flipping the card over, she caught his name and the quick message:
"Hopefully this makes up for the a**-pain, enjoy the booze."

"Does stuff like his normally work on women?" Imara sighed before she noticed a series of numbers at the bottom.

He'd given her his number.

Two choice words exited her mouth as she threw the card across the room to her dresser. She was too exhausted to deal with THAT level of B.S.