Originally Posted by
Raz_Fox
"I am not--" Bile rises, hackles rise, the anger supressed one time too many boils up at the back of the eyeballs, nails cut into something almost a real palm. Sides ache where the boot connects, where night slides against a pale moon-shirt: focus. The next breath is cold, the frustrated grunt of a woman who knows it would make a scene if she slapped a cad, the seller who really needs this buyer.
"I am a person, Miss Namine. And only as loyal as the next person." No more begging for treats, no more obeying and quick at it. "But I used to use Excel 97. For schedules. I... was a few semesters away from my degree." Don't think about the person who has your face, probably has a degree and an office and a boyfriend and a family who loves her. Just don't.