It takes every bit of self-control she has not to interject. The sting of betrayal is ice cold, a chill that spreads from her chest down her spine—weeks, weeks of working beside Celia, of telling her it wasn't her fault, of talking about getting Sam back and Celia never quite letting up on the idea he was dead, that they should leave it...
That traitorous bitch—
Her face betrays every bit of anger, one fist white knuckle against the ground whilst the other grips Sam's shoulder. She's about ready to start spitting venom by the time he's done, but then he's talking about another her. And that takes the wind out of those angry sails.
"What, did she jump and snog you too?" comes out like a joke, self-deprecating and trying to regain control over that particular impulsive act at once, before she blinks and— "Oh fuck off she actually did, didn't she?"
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It takes every bit of self-control she has not to interject. The sting of betrayal is ice cold, a chill that spreads from her chest down her spine—weeks, weeks of working beside Celia, of telling her it wasn't her fault, of talking about getting Sam back and Celia never quite letting up on the idea he was dead, that they should leave it...
That traitorous bitch—
Her face betrays every bit of anger, one fist white knuckle against the ground whilst the other grips Sam's shoulder. She's about ready to start spitting venom by the time he's done, but then he's talking about another her. And that takes the wind out of those angry sails.
"What, did she jump and snog you too?" comes out like a joke, self-deprecating and trying to regain control over that particular impulsive act at once, before she blinks and— "Oh fuck off she actually did, didn't she?"