"You're early."
"I'm late, actually. The fight already started."
"You watched." It's not a question.
I nod because lying seems pointless. "I did."
Something flickers across his face. I can't read it. "You shouldn't have."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not..." He trails off, runs a hand over his head. Winces slightly when he touches near the cut. "It's not something you should see."
"I work here, Danny. I see it every night."
"That's different. You're cleaning up after. You're not watching it happen."
"Maybe I wanted to watch."
The words come out before I can stop them. His eyes widen, the most surprise I've ever seen him show.
"Why?" he asks.
Because I wanted to see you. Because I've been thinking about you for three days straight. Because you protected me and I don't know how to process that someone like you would care about someone like me.
I can't say any of that.
"I wanted to thank you," I say instead. "For the other night. For what you did."
"I told you not to mention it."
"And I'm mentioning it anyway." I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder, trying to find courage I'm not sure I have. "That guy, he wouldn't have stopped. Not on his own. You didn't have to help me, but you did, and I... I needed you to know that it mattered. That you mattered."
Danny stares at me. The warehouse noise continues around us. People talking, laughing, the clank of bottles, someone callingfor bets on the next fight, but it all feels distant. Like we're in a bubble where it's just us.
"You shouldn't be thanking me," he says finally. His voice is low, almost pained. "You should be staying as far away from me as possible."
"Why?"
"Because look at me, Joanna." He holds up his hands, those massive hands with split knuckles still dripping blood. "Look at what I do. What I am. I just beat a man unconscious for money. That's who I am."
"That's not all you are."
"Yeah? What else am I?"
"You're someone who makes sure women get to their cars safely. Someone who gives people space when they're scared. Someone who checked on Riot after you knocked him out."
His jaw tightens. "You saw that."
"I saw everything." I take a half-step closer, even though my brain's screaming that this is a terrible idea. "You were worried about him. After you won, you looked back to make sure he was okay."
"That doesn't make me a good person."
"Maybe not. But it makes you more than what you think you are."
He's silent for a long moment. People are starting to notice us. I can feel eyes watching, whispers starting. A cleaner talking to Bruiser right after his fight. This isn't normal. This breaks every unspoken rule of the Pit.
I should care about that.
