[@Write]

[b]Gratia Mindaro - Behind the Café[/b]

"[color=66cd00]I didn't know that cock cured traumas.[/color]"

Gratia's right hand gripped onto Nuit's, halting the girl's movement. Pale fingers clenched at the fabric, the iron-firm touch practically [i]daring[/i] the Faunus to take another step away from her. To try and continue to avoid the issue.

"[color=66cd00]Unless you've made a [i]wonderful[/i] new discovery this past week,[/color]" she continued, a strange casualness entering her tone as sarcasm began to seep into that cold voice. "[color=66cd00]So tell me, [i]Doctor Nuit[/i], how does engaging in such bullshit allow your mental faculties to restore themselves to the state of a non-retard?[/color]"

If the birdbrain wanted to be irritatingly stubborn about it ...

"[color=66cd00]You killed Vitoria Dodici over a week ago.[/color]"

Venetia had dealt with the carcass.

"[color=66cd00]In the period between then and now, you found the time to go on a shitty cruise rather than deal with your little hangup in a more constructive manner.[/color]"

[i][color=66cd00]Such as visiting someone fucking qualified for it.[/color][/i]

"[color=66cd00][i]Forgive me[/i] if I'm doubtful, but how much longer will this minute of yours be?[/color]"

Her grip tightened.

Minutely.

But noticeably.

"[color=66cd00]For how much longer will you run away?[/color]"