I wasn't sc-scandalized, don't flatter yourself! As if I wou—guWAAAH!!
[Fukawa drops to a crouch and wraps her arms around her whole face. Caught a bit of peach crease, there.
And now she feels doubly stupid. First for falling for the bait (this absolute TRAMP) and second for ceding her ground. How was she supposed to stay vigilant cowering on the floorboards? She groans, long and endlessly suffering.]
I c-can't believe you...weaponizing your filthy body against me, using ch-cheap tricks...I should have spit in your face and r-ran when I had the chance!
[Funny she should say that, considering there's a door knob just to the left she refuses to reach for.
If she were writing this scenario into a novel her editors would tell her to axe it. There couldn't be anything more contrived. And yet here she is, the homeliest leading lady since Jane Eyre, dodging an eyeful from a modern day Apollo.
She must regain composure. She can't let him win.]
The p-problem is, [She insists firmly, still tremulous, half muffled from between her shielding arms,] th-that it's impossible to know who can be trusted right away! Sure, people c-can help each other, but that's nothing but a ploy to wrap unsuspecting idiots around your f-finger. Only time can sh-show you who your real friends are! Otherwise you could wind up dead. Or f-framed! Or just — j-just a huge laughing stock for everyone to kick at when they're bored!
no subject
[Fukawa drops to a crouch and wraps her arms around her whole face. Caught a bit of peach crease, there.
And now she feels doubly stupid. First for falling for the bait (this absolute TRAMP) and second for ceding her ground. How was she supposed to stay vigilant cowering on the floorboards? She groans, long and endlessly suffering.]
I c-can't believe you...weaponizing your filthy body against me, using ch-cheap tricks...I should have spit in your face and r-ran when I had the chance!
[Funny she should say that, considering there's a door knob just to the left she refuses to reach for.
If she were writing this scenario into a novel her editors would tell her to axe it. There couldn't be anything more contrived. And yet here she is, the homeliest leading lady since Jane Eyre, dodging an eyeful from a modern day Apollo.
She must regain composure. She can't let him win.]
The p-problem is, [She insists firmly, still tremulous, half muffled from between her shielding arms,] th-that it's impossible to know who can be trusted right away! Sure, people c-can help each other, but that's nothing but a ploy to wrap unsuspecting idiots around your f-finger. Only time can sh-show you who your real friends are! Otherwise you could wind up dead. Or f-framed! Or just — j-just a huge laughing stock for everyone to kick at when they're bored!