Mourn

The Crown 

"Would you like to elaborate or I will have to find it out myself?" Erick asks sarcastically. He is in such a bad mood that I tossed him over the window and made him limp like he is right now. 

"Can you let it go first?" I say, resigned, "We are working here and I can't have you throw tantrums like a spoiled kid." 

"Excuse me? Spoiled kid? Me?" Erick looks at me like he just heard some kind of bad joke, "Aren't you supposed to be the one who threw me out of the window and sprained my ankle? Lush, it hurts." I am not sure which one he is talking about right now. The physical one or the unseeable one. 

"Please, Erick," I blow out a breath, my temple pulsing as I rub the place between my brows, "Stop throwing tantrums, we need to get over this and go back." There is something about this place that is making all my instincts flare in alarm and my heart does the jumping thing.