BLACK CLOUDS AND UNDERDOGS ; p

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]The door opened, and the unimpressed look upon his features almost set her off. Almost. She was already disgusted with this whole show. She was completely fed up with the way he was acting. He was arrogant, self-center, moody, so fucking judgmental of those who were trying to help him, and he couldn't accept tough love. 'Look in the mirror lately, Suite?' her mind jabbed at her, and she cut down the thought immediately. Maybe she was a hypocrite. Hell, there was no 'maybe.' She was. She'd admit it. But that wasn't why she was here.

"Mm, you've brought this displeasure on yourself, Basty Boy," Suiteheart pointed out. Her tone was freezing, lacking in the heat of rage that rolled away from her being. She quite literally pushed her way into his room, not bothering to ask for permission. It was best not to let this spill out into the open like so much of her private life often did. Once inside, she turned, facing him. Her eyes were cold steel, but the anger was now mixed with disappointment - both at herself and at him.

"How could you speak to Margaery like that?" she demanded. She couldn't understand it. She didn't really want to understand it either. "I know we've both wronged you, but that was fucked up." She shook her head, and for the first time, she finally felt all the weight of things between them. Her fury was rising again though. She could feel it burning inside of her throat. She could feel the fire flickering to life inside of her chest. "You know, I don't put a lot passed you - because, my God, do you remind me of myself - but that? That was a low fucking blow. Even for you."