The line of her eyes slides away from him, rooting itself in the corner of the stable, as he snaps back at her. Her mouth goes all lopsided and then thin when he calls her that.

And then she bites back (and part of her thinks maybe that's what this was about. What she'd been gunning for all along: get him to go all hard nosed so she has a reason to want to punch him for it). So, yeah. She can be defensive too alright because-- "Jesus, do you even listen? I just told you." She's suddenly angry. Angry because she sounds more pitched than she wants to be and that just makes it worse and-- "I don't want to play baseball or tell Chris Dowd to stop trying to fucking hold my hand for the seventeenth time when I could actually be doing something that matters."

Because it's all bullshit and she knows that, but at least if she's running the perimeter then-- people die all the time. That's just how it goes and she's aware of that. But having friends makes it harder or different and makes her feel more useless than she already does. She'd rather be good for something even if it's just scoping out some fuckers trying to stir shit than be good for nothing with a great soccer game.