At that moment, Quinn's entire body [i]tensed[/i] all at once. 

She didn't know what Roaki meant to get at by asking about Dahlia. About friends. About [i]family.[/i] But whatever the intent, it filled her with a thrill of fear and unease. And that was vessel enough for the prickles underneath her skin—so briefly quelled by the crushing tide of grief and guilt—to blaze back to life with a new and renewed fire.

[i]Seething[/i] anger—she didn't know if it was [color=black]Quinnlash's[/color] or hers, or even a melding of the two—coursed back through her. The liquid flame pumped itself back into her veins, flowing like lava beneath her skin as her hands clenched tight and her blood roared through her ears. 

She bared her teeth, only barely choking back a bestial growl as she lunged forwards. Her fist flew out before she could stop it, and she only [i]barely[/i] had the presence of mind to pull it back, stopping it right before it hit. Then it unfolded, covering that last distance and coming to rest palm-first.

She leaned in, face only a foot from the glass now as she dragged her fingernails like claws down the barrier. [i]"[color=FFE63D]Don't you get near her,[/color]"[/i] she hissed through her teeth, keeping her voice as low as she could manage. [i]"[color=FFE63D]Don't you even [i]look[/i] at her, or I'll rip that stick from your stump and break it over your head.[/color]"[/i]