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- “She’s modest,” Oliver suggested.
- Krouse twitched with irritation. He wanted to stab his finger in Oliver’s face, growl, you don’t know her.
- He bit his tongue and kept from reacting, reminded himself that he was under the influence of that incessant screaming in his head, a constant pressure on his psyche. If he let himself slip, he knew how easily he could transition into tearing into Oliver, expressing all the frustration he had over how passive and submissive and fucking whiny he was. The guy wouldn’t even fight back.
- Noelle’s not modest. She’s damaged, Krouse thought. He glanced at Marissa, and he didn’t say anything.
- - Migration 17.3
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