Her ears are burning. If they were not covered in silken black hair they would certainly be the brightest red. The name ringing inside of them is her own. 

And the power of a name is that the entire rest of her has gone numb. She must be feeling the fatigue harder than she thought, or maybe it was the latent build up of fear? No, more nervousness than outright fear. Fear does not explain this strange drop in her stomach or the dancing in her chest. It explains the tightness, but not this heat. Though neither does anything to explain why all she can think is

Madeleine, Madeleine, Madeleine. Madeline, no Made[i]leine![/i] It's indecent to have the thoughts she's having. She must be the first woman on the planet broken enough to be thinking them. But she spirals and she sweats and she flusters, and she twitches when she feels that tap against her nose. 

Ah. There's that prey instinct after all.

"IIIII," her voice is not smooth anymore, "Don't really think the press wants to talk to mE?"

She lets an indecent giggle escape her throat. Oh, this is bad. This is quite bad. She would like to not be quite so naked anymore, please? This feeling of exposure is very unpleasant, actually? Please start running, please start running, please running running running leave? Literally get out? Why are you still here??

"I am good at being quiet!" she says with much too much force.

"And the only person I talk to anymore is just Titanomachia." this time she's too quiet by half. 

Silence. Very awkward, terrible silence. She understands now why Machia thought it was a good idea to brandish an egg beater. Why is this still happening? She asked it not to! She wants to wrap herself in shadows and run off the surface of the earth to somewhere secret where she can whisper to Blanche and be safe and this is all the opposite of that. 

"...Yes?" she tries again.