She squeezes his hand back, tight. Flashes a violently beautiful smile back at him in response to his words, "I'm Rachel Eicheln now, too."
The statement gets her holding her head up a little higher, the spark back in her eyes.
"Reynolds," she begins, brisk and bold as she was back before the man on the other side of the door had started to quell that fire, "This is how it's going to be: If you truly want to be a part of my son's life, you're going to get a lawyer and I'm going to get a lawyer. They'll get the full account of both our desires out of this situation and will meet to discuss it, getting feedback from us as needed. I never intend to see your face again, and to be honest, I don't intend for my son to until he's old enough to understand exactly what you did to me and exactly what you want from him. So our lawyers will discuss the option of you ever seeing him, first, and then we'll see from there what else might happen."
The pause is clearly taken a back. The response is more a reflex than something with any real heat, "You're a bitch, Rachel."
"I really rather prefer lioness," she says sharply, "Now, either you agree to those terms and your lawyer will contact me later, or you don't and you lose any chance of ever seeing my son. Either way, you leave now."
The silence speaks volumes-- is largely full of pure fury. There's a clear struggle with his pride that takes place on the other side of the door.
"Fine." His voice is short, hot with anger, "We'll be in touch."
He manages, at least, to cut off the other slur-- a familiar one his parents wee fond of using, after she got pregnant-- but it's a very near thing. For all she's on a high of righteous fury, Rachel can't help the slight flinch that the half-spoken word causes.
So if Ed wants to punch Elliot or w/e, he can do that thing now. If not just assume he Apparated o/
The statement gets her holding her head up a little higher, the spark back in her eyes.
"Reynolds," she begins, brisk and bold as she was back before the man on the other side of the door had started to quell that fire, "This is how it's going to be: If you truly want to be a part of my son's life, you're going to get a lawyer and I'm going to get a lawyer. They'll get the full account of both our desires out of this situation and will meet to discuss it, getting feedback from us as needed. I never intend to see your face again, and to be honest, I don't intend for my son to until he's old enough to understand exactly what you did to me and exactly what you want from him. So our lawyers will discuss the option of you ever seeing him, first, and then we'll see from there what else might happen."
The pause is clearly taken a back. The response is more a reflex than something with any real heat, "You're a bitch, Rachel."
"I really rather prefer lioness," she says sharply, "Now, either you agree to those terms and your lawyer will contact me later, or you don't and you lose any chance of ever seeing my son. Either way, you leave now."
The silence speaks volumes-- is largely full of pure fury. There's a clear struggle with his pride that takes place on the other side of the door.
"Fine." His voice is short, hot with anger, "We'll be in touch."
He manages, at least, to cut off the other slur-- a familiar one his parents wee fond of using, after she got pregnant-- but it's a very near thing. For all she's on a high of righteous fury, Rachel can't help the slight flinch that the half-spoken word causes.