[Her voice barely cuts into the panic cycle of his thoughts, a pale and fluttering thing that doesn't hook, doesn't shake him from the stupor of what he's feeling then. The horror is physical; it blocks his throat, a viscous sensation that comes out in another splatter of blood and pieces of flower. From the corner of his eye, vision blurred like rain over glass, the tissue hovers in hand — yet any good will dissolves at the touch to his shoulder.]

You— shut up.

[The words are cold and sharp. He smacks the girl's hand away, as if he can't stand the touch. It isn't far from the truth. The animosity is burning in him beyond his ability to control, Shadow thoughts dark in mind. 𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞? 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠. Too many times in the past he's dealt with girls like this, all of their concerns of romance like a black and sinking hole, uncaring who they've dragged in with them, whether it's wanted or reciprocated. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭.]

You're as delusional as you are stupid. [Like ice now, his words are turned on her, rising unsteady to his feet and scraping the blood off his mouth.] Is it entertaining to make up such stories? No one would believe that if they had any sense at all.