[ Since we last left off, the following things have changed: these characters are located outside the safehouse, and have been the whole time. A cot was not involved. A hanger was probably involved. Why was a rusted hanger lying in an alleyway somewhere? Uh, you know what, don't ask. Least said, soonest mended.
Her lip is still split, though. She'll have a bruise there for a few days. Aranea barely looks bothered by this. At worst, she looks irritated by the inconvenience. This kid (for that's how she's thinking of him, for whatever reason) is clearly determined to choose the worst possible path for his own life and follow it through to a quick, messy, young end. Why should she twist herself into knots - and, quite possibly, get elbowed in the face again - to keep him from doing so?
Doesn't help that his last sentence is remarkably condescending. A flurry of rushed, petulant, petty anger fills her. It colours her next few words, her husky voice almost guttural with lowly simmering anger. ]
Fine. Sign your damn death warrant, if you're so desperate to be a cautionary tale of blind stupidity. Not my problem.
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Her lip is still split, though. She'll have a bruise there for a few days. Aranea barely looks bothered by this. At worst, she looks irritated by the inconvenience. This kid (for that's how she's thinking of him, for whatever reason) is clearly determined to choose the worst possible path for his own life and follow it through to a quick, messy, young end. Why should she twist herself into knots - and, quite possibly, get elbowed in the face again - to keep him from doing so?
Doesn't help that his last sentence is remarkably condescending. A flurry of rushed, petulant, petty anger fills her. It colours her next few words, her husky voice almost guttural with lowly simmering anger. ]
Fine. Sign your damn death warrant, if you're so desperate to be a cautionary tale of blind stupidity. Not my problem.