You could put up with the threats and the jeers in your direction. At the end of the day, you knew the damage you could deal, but as a woman, sometimes it would be nice if someone came to your rescue, even though such a thing was impossible when the Varia was involved. But it wasn’t too bad to be told you that you were pretty, sometimes, instead of saying you had a man-face. C’mon, some of those comments hurt your feminine ego. Someone should be complimenting you!
By someone you meant your fucking boyfriend. But the idiot was too dense sometimes, or just didn’t feel the need to be worried about it, to do anything. Either that or he didn’t care how you felt half the time, which you reasoned was probably the truth. Sometimes you wondered how the two of you even came to be in the relationship that you were in now, or why you bothered anymore. His disinterest was beginning to worry you, and even though you would never admit it in a million years, you didn’t want him to find someone else. You didn’t want anyone else but him.
It was like you were the only one trying to make an effort, and that hurt.
And here you were found, glaring down at your teal haired boyfriend, who passively gazed back from under his frog hat, still lounging lazily on the couch. You ignored the quiet laugh coming from the blonde that sat curled in the armchair adjacent to you.
“What did you just say?” You asked, your voice dangerously quiet.
Fran’s eyebrow perked up, his full lips twitching into a slight grimace. “I didn’t know you were hard of hearing all of a sudden. Did that bomb in the last mission blow out your eardrums?”
You huffed, pointing at him. “Don’t sass me, boy! This is serious, okay?”
“The peasant is getting fussy~” Bel giggled, poking his finger at the tip of one of his knives.
A heavy sigh left the youngest member of the Varia
Your lips pulled into a snarl, your fingernails curling into your tensed biceps. “It doesn’t matter to you that those pretentious low lives called me a…a…!”
“Lesbian? A cradle robber? Useless? A failure of a woman? Vagina-less?” Bel supplied, his amusement clear in his voice.
You whirled on the blonde. “SHUT UP, BEL!”
“No,” Fran muttered over the Prince’s annoying laughter, rubbing his hand over his face. His voice was muffled by his hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
You took a deep breath and glared at your boyfriend over your shoulder. “Do you agree with them?!”
He peeked at you from between his fingers.
You let out a frustrated yell, your boot connecting with the coffee table, the wood and glass breaking apart from your furious stomp. You whirled away, storming out of the room. “SCREW YOU, FRAN! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED IN MY ROOM FOR FOREVER!”
You slammed the doors to the hallway open, your chest heavy with angered pants, a murderous gleam in your eyes, your hands flexing and curling with the desire to punch a hole in the wall. The Varia lackeys quickly moved out of the way, realizing that this was not the time to test your patience.
Unfortunately, one didn’t move quickly enough, and your palm connected with his face, the heel of your hand breaking his nose and the force of your hit sending him through the wall.
That didn’t help your hurt feelings at all.