“That’s not my fault,” he intrudes immediately, tone wrung from his throat in misplaced annoyance and anger, indignant that she would dare insinuate it was his incompetence that led to this.
“You just have no idea what you’re doing,” he concludes, haughty but entirely certain. He pushes her away with a deft hand, not lingering to touch her any more than necessary—that’s gross, he thinks, this malformed lycanthrope disaster. “It’s a wonder you pass any of your classes here. Are you incompetent, or something?”
►✘◄ ━
❝Look, pal! You don’t have to be a complete jerk about it. Look at it! It’s a mess! We’ve been at this for hours. Maybe you're the one that has no idea what you’re doing. If you did, we’d be done by now!❞
Calm down, Cerise. Getting angry isn’t gonna make it better or fix anything. But this know-it-all was just completely infuriating. And– did… did he just touch her? With a low growl and a twitch of her upper lip, Cerise shoved the other back. She placed her hands behind her back and huffed.
❝Don’t touch me. There’s no reason for you to put your hands on me. None.❞
