[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/4CJP41s.jpg[/img][/center]

Annoyance grew inside her as the man remained seated in front of her. The man still didn't want to fucking leave. The way he offered her coffee, the way he pestered her not to be 'grumpy', and the way he smiled at her was all so taunting! [b]UGH.[/b] Did this guy think she was playing around? Did he think that she wasn't serious with the murderous look he was stabbing into him? The smile he had implied to her that he was getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of irritating her. Perhaps this man had come in search of hitting on her, and now finding resistance, found her an irresistible challenge. Whatever this man had going on in his head, Sam wasn't happy about what he was doing.

She fumed at his attempts to be friendly, making the ridiculous argument that they didn't even have to talk to each other. Besides being plain silly, social interaction wasn't even what this was about anymore. It was the fact that this was her space, her bubble, and his polluting presence in it was unwelcome -- scratch that, not just unwelcome, despised.

When he relented a little, trying to make the situation less tense by saying he wasn't interested in her number, just interested in talking, her eyes flared. Oh! So it [i]was[/i] about him hitting on her! She could see right through the ploy he had displayed. She could see him struggling to pull her in. He hoped that once he pulled her in with some kind of half-baked conversation that she would, in fact, give him her number. The heat in the small booth rose even further. It was very clear now. It was as if the hot, 100 degree summer weather outside had penetrated the establishment, unfazed by AC. Sam, however, was unaware of it.

Samantha fumed at the man until he was done speaking. It was only after a long silence following what he said did she begin to move. Slowly, menacingly, she straightened her posture and then leaned threateningly across the table. She locked her smoke eyes with his green yet purple ones. Sam wished to pierce his soul with her stabbing glare as she towered over the table. Her hands pressed into the table, making her look even more dangerous, as if she would propel herself to attack him at any moment. The heat would press into the man with even greater strength as well as her intense form. It was then, only after about ten seconds of accomplishing this action of towering and leaning across the table, did she speak, her tone dripping with venom. "[color=a0410d]Ben,[/color]" She growled his name, "[color=a0410d]I tried to be nice, believe it or not.[/color]" She paused. "[color=a0410d]Now, I will say it again, but not so nice this time:[/color]" She lowered her voice so it was intimately dark and quieter. "[color=a0410d]Get the [i]fuck[/i] away from me,[/color]" She let that sting a little bit before adding. "[color=a0410d]and just leave me alone.[/color]" With that, she slowly lowered herself back into her seat, and despite the change in body position, she still projected a challenging air.

Samantha had no tolerance for people who vexed her, much less people who wanted in her space. The woman had few friends. She liked it that way and she intended to keep it that way.

[@Gikel]