Whatever flimsy attempt Kire had at holding back what was left of her already terrible temper snapped at his response. She turned back to him, livid. “Is that really what you think of me? Gods above, no wonder you’re terrible at friends. You just relish assuming the worst of people, don’t you?” she spat back. She was red for a different reason now, and she groaned into her hands. Some part of her couldn’t resist picturing it from Ruli’s point of view, though. She had been drunk. She was in Elva’s house. He had nowhere else to go. She wanted to be angry—she [i]was[/i]—but the thought of him having a valid argument only fueled her temper. “If you think being spurned in bed would make me turn around and hurt people because of it, you’re not quite right in the head. I didn’t do [i]any[/i] of those things to the poor bastard who fucked me the first time. You know why it wasn’t such a jolly good time for either of us? He took one look at the scars on my body and I could see the horror on his face. Can’t exactly fuck someone straight after that.”

She had more to shout at him, but it was hard to rearrange her thoughts with her conflicted anger. Disappointment at the way he felt about her, anger at the way he looked at her, fought with the disappointment she felt in herself for letting all this happen. [i]You fucked up, Kay.[/i]