( If anything was going to diffuse her ire, that was it. That right there, that resignation and the bracing for blame. It's my fault, she says, and if Sarissa wasn't Sarissa she'd want to shake her to get logic into Sarah's head. She doesn't though, and that's the thing - hurting vulnerable people is the opposite of what she ever wants. Sarissa picks fights with the people bigger than her, with sleazy guys in bars and the people who'd harass homeless people under their bridges and boxes. She waits for them to throw the first punch unless it's dire.
Her jaw works, but whatever words she wants to make don't come out until they're a stumbling, confused thing, and now the pills and the bourbon aren't helping because it feels like her tongue isn't cooperating. Maybe that's just her, though. ) It's not your fault. It's-- it's them. George cut into you like that. Blood-guy did it. The-- the people who that worm in there. Not you.
( For a second she looks very very young, because there's a confused need to understand, or to try and make Sarah understand, and it's then that she realises her hand is in a fist and processes Sarah pulling away, and she shifts back herself. It's a flinch, it's pulling away from a car cigarette lighter pressing into her skin and loud noises. )
I wasn't--
( She feels extremely ill and it has mostly nothing to do with the ice cream slurry or painkillers rolling in her gut. ) I think maybe you'd be more comfortable if I left, hey.
no subject
( If anything was going to diffuse her ire, that was it. That right there, that resignation and the bracing for blame. It's my fault, she says, and if Sarissa wasn't Sarissa she'd want to shake her to get logic into Sarah's head. She doesn't though, and that's the thing - hurting vulnerable people is the opposite of what she ever wants. Sarissa picks fights with the people bigger than her, with sleazy guys in bars and the people who'd harass homeless people under their bridges and boxes. She waits for them to throw the first punch unless it's dire.
Her jaw works, but whatever words she wants to make don't come out until they're a stumbling, confused thing, and now the pills and the bourbon aren't helping because it feels like her tongue isn't cooperating. Maybe that's just her, though. ) It's not your fault. It's-- it's them. George cut into you like that. Blood-guy did it. The-- the people who that worm in there. Not you.
( For a second she looks very very young, because there's a confused need to understand, or to try and make Sarah understand, and it's then that she realises her hand is in a fist and processes Sarah pulling away, and she shifts back herself. It's a flinch, it's pulling away from a car cigarette lighter pressing into her skin and loud noises. )
I wasn't--
( She feels extremely ill and it has mostly nothing to do with the ice cream slurry or painkillers rolling in her gut. ) I think maybe you'd be more comfortable if I left, hey.