Weeks of being handled as though she were a delicate flower had burnt through every shred of patience Fallon possessed. Yes, there was an assassin out there aiming towards her, and yes, being in the tundra was a horrific experience, but she was fine. Lachlan survived, she survived, nothing truly catastrophic had happened. Spending a week fighting for survival didn't mean she was any less capable of a person, that she couldn't handle stress or her bloody job. If anything, the experience had lit a fire so bright she felt ready to fight anyone who crossed her path.
That Mr. Hatchitt was among those handling her with kid gloves was all the more disappointing because it meant he had no idea who she was. He didn't — and could never — understand what happened in the tundra, but he could at least understand her desire to continue on. Or, that was what she had hoped for anyway. Fallon shifted on her feet, her stubs beginning to ache from standing still for so long. She fucking hated this.
"I'm fine," she insisted instinctively. It was the reactive statement she'd uttered more times than she could count in the last fortnight. "What I've been through is over and done with. I'm not a fragile piece of glass, I can handle a bloody week in the freezing cold." That she was now afraid of fire was something she wouldn't allow either of them to address. "The letters got out of hand, but there was no need to be a bloody arse about it. Cold and distant and I wish you well on your recovery. What the fuck did that even mean?!"
It was lucky that they were trapped between floors, as her rising anger meant her volume increased with every word. "I shoved you out the door because you already had one foot out."
That Mr. Hatchitt was among those handling her with kid gloves was all the more disappointing because it meant he had no idea who she was. He didn't — and could never — understand what happened in the tundra, but he could at least understand her desire to continue on. Or, that was what she had hoped for anyway. Fallon shifted on her feet, her stubs beginning to ache from standing still for so long. She fucking hated this.
"I'm fine," she insisted instinctively. It was the reactive statement she'd uttered more times than she could count in the last fortnight. "What I've been through is over and done with. I'm not a fragile piece of glass, I can handle a bloody week in the freezing cold." That she was now afraid of fire was something she wouldn't allow either of them to address. "The letters got out of hand, but there was no need to be a bloody arse about it. Cold and distant and I wish you well on your recovery. What the fuck did that even mean?!"
It was lucky that they were trapped between floors, as her rising anger meant her volume increased with every word. "I shoved you out the door because you already had one foot out."