[ These, she could tick off on her fingers. Three needling insinuations that have her flushing hot with something near to anger. She feels them like splinters when she closes her hand into a fist.
Doesn’t hit him.
But she thinks about it, how she’d land her knuckles at the edge of his smirking mouth. It would feel good, Nancy knows, but—
Maybe not here. Even given what she’s seen on stage. ]
Fuck you, Billy, [ she tells him, sweetly as she knows how.
no subject
Doesn’t hit him.
But she thinks about it, how she’d land her knuckles at the edge of his smirking mouth. It would feel good, Nancy knows, but—
Maybe not here. Even given what she’s seen on stage. ]
Fuck you, Billy, [ she tells him, sweetly as she knows how.
Marginally better than hitting him, surely. ]