It is worse. She stands up a little straighter and places her hands on top of her head to help open her chest up. Breathe in, "What the fuck," breathe out, "do you mean?" And then it hits her like a pile of fucking bricks.

Her arms drop to her sides, her face screws up like she's about to bitch at him, and then she just lets out a somewhat breathless, squeaking exhale. Oh, she's too tired to be really, truly angry. In fact, she's kind of impressed.

That was impressive. That was good. Still. "Fuck you," there's a startling lack of bite to the words, "I didn't like that." Liar.