Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she watched Malcolm swoop away with Lavender, announcing to the rest of the guests that the real party had arrived. Psyke felt her arms twitch to reach out and make sure that he was handling her head and neck correctly. Augh, why did they think that having people over was a good idea? AUGH, when was having a party not a good idea? What was happening? Why was she thinking like this?!
She was not ready for all these confusing questions!
Psyke finally let out a breath, only to try and force herself not to grimace at Harper's sudden need for---ugh, steak. She felt her stomach shoot up her throat, and she put her hand to her mouth to keep it down. Augh! She had not known that he would be getting wolfish cravings, and for a vegetarian like herself.
Well.
It was just gross!
But she couldn't say that, because her husband had been attacked by a bloody werewolf and had saved hers and their daughter's lives. She was not allowed to complain about grilling meat in the house.
She would just stay far, far away.
Psyke stood in the frame of the open back door, watching Harper with a poorly hidden look of disgust. Not toward him! No, no she thought the scars were a bit rugged, actually, even if they did remind her of that terrible night. Her upturned nose was toward the damn grill, and she swallowed once again.
"Need any help?" she squeaked.
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