making me feel glad that I'm not you

Morgan

Snakes are biting at my heels
The worries that refuse to let us go

"And what is it that makes the difference?" Morgan didn't really have much interest in the distinction, but she'd discovered in the last months she was apparently very susceptible to being drawn into bickering contests with smarmy men. A habit of hers she'd have to work on.

She did look over as he stretched, though she was sure to keep on her face a serious and bored expression, not wanting to in any way give the impression she was admiring his body (and really, he wasn't her type anyway). "And are all of those from women you've annoyed?" Morgan asked, though it was obvious the man had been in his fair share of serious fights; she sighed and releasing some of her tension, spoke again: "...I apologise. Tell me a story of one of them."

The flower came within reach and she gently reached out to take it. Reaching into her pocket, Morgan pulled out a small cloth, which had until now been wrapped around the hairball she'd gotten from the shrine. Figuring it would likely survive the trip back, she placed it down between herself and Saiden and went to wrap the bloom in it instead, very gently. "Good point. It might be of use, though. Perhaps we could find a way to divide it to experiment with it's parts."

I've been kicking them away
Been hoping not to let them take control