“Not discuss, exactly, more like point out.” Christina told the vampire pleasantly enough. “After all, you’ve been around for so many years that some things must have been shoved into those little corners where you never really look… But it’s not just you, I’ll bring it up later.”
She returned Issac’s look with an equal one of her own, but it was his words that she found she could not let go. “Oh, right, how could I forget?” she asked sarcastically, crossing her arms. “Clearly, Madison can study the behaviour of an immobile, inactive, non-living cryptid. It’s not like living creatures are his area, no, I really don’t know why he can’t get more information on the Fallen, with all those bodies we have lying in the infirmary! And maybe Oren studied the building plans before we arrived, like you should have, and I’ll forgive you for being in denial but I could fucking hear the damned thoughts of the biohazard team! No, they weren’t under the chute, they were guarding the main entrance! And what kind of hospital has a ‘body pit’?” she threw up her hands in exasperation. “They have morgues, which which we were already in!” Her eyes were narrowed as she shook her head, the air around her crackling with magical energy as her temper rose. “And maybe, if the field operatives we were with weren’t fucking useless, Oren would not have had to pretend to be one! We have Alihambra, who seems to have been trying to sabotage his own team, then we have Roderic, who flounced off to save our healer from yet another useless member of your department while you, Schofield, the only guard we had left, decide that you want to shoot a thing instead of I don’t know, being somehow helpful?!”
She finished her rant, breathing hard, and that was when she heard him complain about not receiving courtesy. “What courtesy?” she asked lowly. “The courtesy where everything Oren does is treated like the act of Satan? The courtesy where you make me feel substandard just because I can do magic? How about you stop only showing courtesy to those you have a crush on, and I’ll respect you in return!”
Her hand swung through the air in the next second, creating a force field for the express purpose of slapping him across the face while she fled up the stairs. The sound of her door slamming resounded through the house, while inside the room the silencing field went up and the sorceress collapsed on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, and tried to fight back her increasingly hysterical response to the day’s events.