MURDER MURDER & BLACK CONVERTIBLES | ascendants

[MirrorEdge]

The young Fireball had a tendency not to listen to anybody she didn't respect, and right now, Monroe didn't have a shred of her respect, insisting to be taken to the crime scene and demanding answers out of her. She had plenty of trouble listening to a good chunk of the high positions in the Ascendents as it was. She tilted her head, stubbornly refusing to say anything on it for now unless Bastille asked her. Or Riza. Either one worked. Both had more respect from her than these idiots.

"I don't think it's up to me, mister, though I'm not sure there would be much left to look over." Maybe a patch of bloodied ground, at most. Any Sunhaven, or, well, Thea's, scent, was washed away by the rains and the stream. Tena's words caused her eyes to narrow, but still, that ghost of a smile that was on her face at all times was there. Because if you smiled, it would be alright. It'd been forever since Thea remembered that, and as usual, she felt a bit calmer with doing so. Less of that unexplainable feeling of anger and even a twinge of fear that had managed to escape their prison inside her mind, feelings that were usually had no place with her were still there, poking here and there in the fragile place that was her mind.

"Are you calling me a liar, miss?"

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