She can see Ronan prepare for a fight, tense his shoulders, almost eager; and there's a part of her that -- still -- wants to give in to the temptation. To rage at him about -- Kavinsky, of all people; about his arrogance in thinking he can make decisions for other people. About thinking they'd be fine without him.
But she doesn't want to lose control of the situation. For one thing, if she yelled right now she'd probably cry, which is horrible. And she doesn't want to only confront Ronan's hard outer shell. That's the whole problem.
"No," she corrects him firmly, "it is about you. It was always about you." She's not in Cabeswater hunting down Adam or Noah or Gansey. She's not trying to convince anyone else they're useful for more than picking out dryers.
"What about what you can endure? For someone who was supposedly living it up, you look like someone just shot your dog, and I guess I don't understand why -- why any of this."
no subject
But she doesn't want to lose control of the situation. For one thing, if she yelled right now she'd probably cry, which is horrible. And she doesn't want to only confront Ronan's hard outer shell. That's the whole problem.
"No," she corrects him firmly, "it is about you. It was always about you." She's not in Cabeswater hunting down Adam or Noah or Gansey. She's not trying to convince anyone else they're useful for more than picking out dryers.
"What about what you can endure? For someone who was supposedly living it up, you look like someone just shot your dog, and I guess I don't understand why -- why any of this."