That was possibly the least helpful thing she could possibly have done, she decided. Andromeda frowned, leaning her head back against the wood of the chair with a loud 'thunk' so that she wouldn't have to watch the way he was cradling his cheek.
"Do you really need to ask what the bloody fuck's wrong with me?" She snapped, still staring pointedly at the ceiling. This was not in the least bit his fault -- except for him being so bloody handsome, of course -- and she knew she shouldn't have been pushing this further, but at least if he thought she was a crazy bitch, this problem could be avoided completely.
"Look, you just need -- to go. Please?" She'd already made a damn fool of herself, after all. No need to prolong it.
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