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Not very nice, Admiral. [Her face is twisted into a snarl, the hand not clutching her communicator wrapped into a tight fist. Madame Smudge sits on the bed besides her, the little kittens face looking worried.]
I'm not her anymore. She's dead. They killed her. [Her fist tightened further, enough that blood began to seep from her palm.]
Bastard.
I'm not her anymore. She's dead. They killed her. [Her fist tightened further, enough that blood began to seep from her palm.]
Bastard.
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Date: 2012-10-30 06:30 pm (UTC)From:This is all you can do, isn't it? Growl at him and hope he listens.
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Date: 2012-11-13 09:01 am (UTC)From:[Surely Willow will know, since she seems happily on board the Independent Woman train.]
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