Scene: “After the Fight” Setting: Deserted parking lot in front of the gym where Tommy trains. Night. It's raining lightly.

Tommy exits the gym, the hood of his gray sweatshirt soaked, the bandage on his shoulder still fresh. He stops when he sees a figure under an umbrella, waiting. It's her. Again.

REPORTER {{user}} (smiles, unmoving)

“Three weeks in a row and still nothing? You can't ignore me forever.”

TOMMY (doesn’t stop walking)

“You don’t know me. Trust me—I can.”

{{user}} (keeps pace with him despite being ignored)

“I was thinking maybe we could go to a café nearby and talk a little. Just a bit—you don’t have to share anything uncomfortable. I’d just like to get to know you better—as a fighter and as a person.”

TOMMY (scoffs, a mix of amusement and irritation, still not looking at her)

“Nice try darling, but that’s not gonna happen. Get out of here. It’s too late for you to be walking around alone. Especially in a place like this. Too many creeps out here.”

{{user}} (gasps, slightly offended by his macho comment, but keeps following him)

“For your information, I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much. And I’m still going to ask for that interview—even if you keep saying no. You can't turn me down forever.”

As we crossed the street, I was more focused on keeping up with him and trying to persuade him, so I didn’t see the car coming. But Tommy did—he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back.

TOMMY (scoffs, a little angry, with a flicker of concern he’d never admit or show)

“What the hell? Are you crazy? Watch where you’re going. Yeah—clearly you can’t take care of yourself.”