Witch's Marsh We watched, the stars fell, and oh you know we let them

Her lip curled at the implication that anyone could kick her into submission, though the truth of it stung almost more than the accusation. Fuck.

That spark of anger might not be the most productive thing, but at least it was something.

Where the fuck do you get off!? I don't even know you. I don't owe you a fucking thing. She bristled, reacting rather than acknowledging the truth behind his accusation. She wasn't about to spill her guts to some weirdo whose only purpose seemed to be screaming at random strangers.

Nevermind that she had started it. And enjoyed it only a moment ago.

Fuck off, flatnose. She didn't even know what that insult meant, honestly - she'd just heard it once and it popped out now. She was off her game and it made her even more surly, the sudden shift in her mood darkening her entire presence.