[se] tarnished but grand

The Honeybee

I believe in holding grudges
I'll heal in hell

Helping herself to some more jerky, she huffed in agreement over the audacity of men. “Right? Asshat.” One day she’d bludgeon him into tiny pieces, or set him ablaze, and then maybe he’d be sorry. Or dead, and it wouldn’t really matter to the Honeybee either way. Besides, the bitching felt good – and she was relieved Flora hadn’t found any of the actions bothersome. Women power or something and all that.

Sunjata’s name thrown into the mix made her audibly gag, choke, and sputter, and then quicken into some put-upon sigh. “Again? Fuck sake.” On a brief handwave, where the jerky dangled and Fangorn eyed it rather speculatively, the smuggler snorted. “He’s my uncle. And they’ve had a lot of fucking drama.” Enough to make Melita wonder just why on earth Ru would want to even bother, but perhaps she was trying to alleviate the past and all its bullshit – or the Flood was.

As for Tal, her facial expression (one of haphazard disgust) firmly disagreed. “Is he though?” Sad? Cute? Good? Pressuring her into a date after she said no, and serenading her when she was clearly uncomfortable, didn’t strike her as the latter, and she didn’t care about the other two. “Just seems shitty to me.”

Pay a little more attention to the healing power
of incandescent rage

Melita