"Stop it," Isobel yelled, which was about all she could do.
The men grappled on the terrace - the word giving it more grandeur than it deserved since it was comprised of two-by-two concrete squares with moss growing in the crevices. Fists flew, bloodying lips, bruising flesh, and all because Chris had a jealous fit.
"Stop that right now!" She stamped her foot, which did nothing. No surprise. So she did what any responsible pet owner would. She grabbed the hose, turned on the cold water, and doused them both.
The men split apart, snarling.
"Enough." She held the nozzle, aimed and ready to spray. "I am not afraid to use this again."
"He started it," Charlie said, pointing his finger.
"Fucking right, I did." Chris flashed a middle finger.
Isobel glared. "Actually, you started this spat, Charlie, by intentionally spilling the beans about the fact we dated as kids." No point in hiding it now. "Leave."