The waxy sheen of cold sweat had spread from Professor Byrne's brow to cover her face and neck by the time she had returned to her own room and slammed the door. She flung her suit jacket down to the floor before slumping her herself, hands shaking as she clawed to unbutton the soaked fabric at her collar. 

[color=#cc3300] [b]“Sonofabitch,"[/b][/color] she mumbled, leaning her head back against the cool stone of the wall. 

The hair tie binding her messy orange locks was the next to be torn away, followed by the remaining buttons of her shirt.  Stray strands of hair clung to her face, starkly contrasting against her sickly pallor. 

The ribbed fabric of her undershirt had been so thoroughly drenched that the lines of her chest tattoos and the shape of her scars showed though. She fanned the neckline with shaking fingers. 

[color=#cc3300] [b]“Don't bother scolding me,”[/b][/color] she said, eyes turned up to the ceiling. [color=#cc3300] [b]“I can handle it, K. It won't happen again.”[/b][/color]
[@VitofTheVoid]