Phantom Hollow a slab in the morgue

She got the feeling she resembled his attackers—good. Why was she even still there? Probably because she was so argumentive that backing away and leaving seemed like way more work than continuing back and forth. Besides, she wanted to go that way—not at first, but now she did just because he was in her way. “First of all, you little shit”—one, two, three more steps forward—“I didn’t attack you. Do you honestly think you’d still be breathing if I had? Hell, you’re such an easy target that some pansy ass kid could take you out—you want that? Maybe I should go find a newborn to kill you, then at least you’d be on the same level as your actual attacker.” Zita’s kids could probably kill him, for fuck’s sake, and they were all about that pacifist lifestyle—tch, losers.

Four, five, six, seven.

By now, she’d crept close enough that she could lunge forward at any moment and tackle him down—and she nearly did, the sight of his gouged out eye being the only thing holding her back. “Based on how pleasant you’ve been with me, I’m sure they had many reasons to take your eye,” she declared matter-of-factly. “They could’ve taken anything that they damn well wanted from you, and you would have deserved it.” She didn’t know what had happened, what led up to it, or anything related to it. That, however, didn’t keep her from running her mouth. She was pissed off and disgusted, and he was the only one there to take the brunt of her emotions; of course she was going to be hard on him, it didn’t even matter that she still had no idea who this guy was or anything else about him.

He still deserved it.

And the second he tried to tell her what to do, he automatically deserved way more than having his eye ripped out. “What face?!” was shrieked right before she launched herself at him once again, intending to knock him off his feet and then straddle him, should she managed to get him back on the ground. “Even if you had a face, I wouldn’t get out of it,” was her bright response, rational statements having left her mind in order to make room for all the rage. “You do not tell me what to do. Got it?!” She snapped at him, extra careful not to actually touch him—how gross would that be?