Walkin' down the my street

[Oriena]

"I didn't even tell you what the favour was."
There was glitter in her eyes; the kind that wrecked ships on rocks unwary enough to follow her siren call. He amused her; the irreverent chatter, the tease in turn. But there was apathy in him too, and the passivity threatened to bore her. In the maelstrom of high emotion was where Ori thrived; she coveted obsession, cultivated it. The fires of hate and passion and chaos.

"Sure, that's true. Prettier girls without the split lip and wrenched shoulder too. Right out that door, where you ought to be by now."
Of course, she could have already ousted him from her mother's kitchen -- whether he was willing or not. Instead she dumped the frozen peas in the sink, rotated her shoulder with a grimace, then closed the short distance. Her gaze flicked up, the ghost of a smile; a defiant blaze of challenge. "You're not game, I understand."


The irony here? She'd only been going to tell him to pick the fucking chair up.