She resisted both the urge to bristle at his condescendingly familiar manner and frown at his apparent intent to settle in for conversation. In truth, she was feeling just needy enough—that is to say, consenting to humour his attentions—to not toss her drink in his face, sneer, or otherwise flounce away and effectively put an end to their conversation.
Though that would, of course, be the wisest, most mature thing to do.
But, and it was the deepest of secrets, Arista often had difficulty doing wise and mature things.
Particularly when those wise and mature things ended up diverting attention away from her.
Turning to face him fully, she arched her eyebrow in a frank study of him. She'd heard plenty about Michal Conway Lynch, and seen enough to know he was more than a handful. That didn't mean she wasn't just as much of a handful. "I'm sure plenty of things about you are offensive," she said in a tone that dripped sweetness.
"Why fuss over just one?"
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