[ Something snaps– vines pulled too taut, threads ripping right down the middle. Instant, angry and hurt. She pulls her hands from her face, fingers balled into fists; she lurches forward just a little. If she was less sick, she might have lunged at him. ]

No one is waiting for me, asshole. I don't exist– that's why I'm here. So shut up and stop talking about me like you know fuckall about anything.