[ and she so prideful, so angry, i have been wronged, how dare you accuse me of wrongdoing ]
Everyone thinks like that! Oh, but I forgot: you have never made promise you cannot keep! You never look back and think you should have done better! Of course!
but her hand is up, and the muscles in her jaw are rippling tense from the effort of holding herself back. are you stupid, woman? are you really stupid? ]
Sit down. [ gives him a bullying push, you know, those little shoves that namely jostle, harry ] Shut up. I have apologized to you. But you have to get last word, hm? So righteous, you. Feel good? [ another shove ] Make you feel like big man?
[ THERE'S NOWHERE FOR HIM TO SIT DOWN, SPREZZATURA.
But jostle him she does, he shrinks back half a step under her little onslaught, though no more than that. He is, for better or worse, so hard to needle in an effective way. Their styles of self-loathing clash hard. Her need to be liked and accepted, and his mask of smugness and sarcasm that keeps people at bay.
He does not care how many insults and jabs she throws at him. It doesn't matter because they're the words he expects to hear.
Swats her hands away. ]
If you think I need to step all over you just for a little ego boost, then you're sorely mistaken. Get over yourself.
Step on me? You? [ acidly: ] You are so far beneath me you could not reach.
[ one final bitchy shove for the road. she lets the kick of it in her shoulder turn her from him—now she's leaving, and whatever pithy final barb he tries to bury in her, she's not going to rise to it. she's not going to rise to it. she's not going to rise to it. ]
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striketwice) wrote2022-10-02 07:47 pm
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Everyone thinks like that! Oh, but I forgot: you have never made promise you cannot keep! You never look back and think you should have done better! Of course!
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no. no. she does not fucking slap him.
but her hand is up, and the muscles in her jaw are rippling tense from the effort of holding herself back. are you stupid, woman? are you really stupid? ]
I've apologized.
[ so now she can leave. ]
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I told you. He's not the one who's mad at you. He still wants to be your friend.
I don't. So let's just leave it at that, huh?
/2
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Sit down. [ gives him a bullying push, you know, those little shoves that namely jostle, harry ] Shut up. I have apologized to you. But you have to get last word, hm? So righteous, you. Feel good? [ another shove ] Make you feel like big man?
no subject
But jostle him she does, he shrinks back half a step under her little onslaught, though no more than that. He is, for better or worse, so hard to needle in an effective way. Their styles of self-loathing clash hard. Her need to be liked and accepted, and his mask of smugness and sarcasm that keeps people at bay.
He does not care how many insults and jabs she throws at him. It doesn't matter because they're the words he expects to hear.
Swats her hands away. ]
If you think I need to step all over you just for a little ego boost, then you're sorely mistaken. Get over yourself.
no subject
[ one final bitchy shove for the road. she lets the kick of it in her shoulder turn her from him—now she's leaving, and whatever pithy final barb he tries to bury in her, she's not going to rise to it. she's not going to rise to it. she's not going to rise to it. ]
no subject