Snippet #13825

Iris rolled her eyes. Way to act your age, Flex. She thought, grinning darkly. Killing would be no problem, but it was her publicity partner. Oh, well. She would shine and he would dim. She would be sponsored and he, ignored. But as soon as the thoughts entered her mind, she dismissed them, knowing full too well how overconfidence was a flaw. Finishing her meal, she walked out of the dining room, past Flex's room, and into hers. No punching bag?

It was slightly humorous that such a little thing could change her mood. Furious, Iris stomped down the hallway looking for someone to get her a punching bag or be it. The thirteen-year-old needed it. And needed it now. Finding someone, she ordered them to bring one to her room promptly.