[She should rise to that. It's decent bait. The kind of bullshit that should rankle, that should get a smart-mouthed remark back. 'Maybe you're just getting slow, Shepard.' But nothing comes. Parker squares. Shepard draws up, a jerking twist of her shoulders as she brings herself to a dead stop across from the younger woman. Breathes in. Chest expanding. Air dragging through her nose. Studies Parker, how quiet and brittle she is - how off that is -, and breathes out small through a narrow gap between her top and bottom rows of teeth.
Come on.
She drives forward. Fast. Hard. Feints right and swings left, a raw pop of her fist - brutal knuckles aimed after Parker's face. Black eye might do her some good.]
no subject
Come on.
She drives forward. Fast. Hard. Feints right and swings left, a raw pop of her fist - brutal knuckles aimed after Parker's face. Black eye might do her some good.]