[ Oh.

There is a distinct effort not to haul off and hit him. Her hands tighten into little fists, her teeth grind together. Where there was frustration before, there's not rage as he throws fuel on the flames. Fuel in the form of a nagging feeling that she hates experiencing.

But then again, he means to do it. He knows exactly what he's doing. The same way Ronan knows how to pluck the right words at the right time that make her yell, Kavinsky knows exactly how to make her feel small and insignificant. As if she should be so lucky that he would deign to give her his attention.

There's a dangerous cycle going round and round inside her at feeling that way because of him and being angry that she feels that way. One day that cycle will get away from her. ]

Don't you have anything better to do than shoot at easy targets? [ Was it a jab at herself? A little. Was it her attempt to shake off the anger? A failing one, yes. ]

It's Blue. You'll probably remember my name when I kick your ass for talking about my panties like that again.