Cassandra's brows tug together, the smallest bit, as she studies Fever -- then turns her attention to the stems in her hands for several moments, twining them carefully around each other.
"It doesn't feel good, does it," she says softly, by all appearances addressing the flowers. "When other people think better of you than you do of yourself. You'd think it would be nice."
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"It doesn't feel good, does it," she says softly, by all appearances addressing the flowers. "When other people think better of you than you do of yourself. You'd think it would be nice."