Martin set his beer bottle on the table. The glass clinked against the wood. He stood from the couch, and the laziness fell off his body like a coat dropping to the floor. His jaw squared. His shoulders straightened. His expression shifted from the bored, half-lidded indifference of a man watching television to something harder.
"I asked you a question." His voice dropped into a low warning. He had decided in the last few seconds that her questions were irrelevant. "Where. Is. The five hundred. Cash."
Seeing Martin disregard her feelings hardened Marion's heart. "I do not have extra money for your boss's gift," Marion replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
She held his stare, and he held hers. Neither of them blinked nor moved from where they were. The living room shrank around them until there was nothing in it but the television murmuring in the background.
