Snippet #2696863

Tania startled, borderline hissing at Catherine as the older woman took her second cup -- the one that was still full. "That was mine ... " she said, in a mournful tone. She bristled at both women's comments, and yanked her hand back from Molly, shaking her head. "You know, it's not particularly nice of you to call me an 'addict,' when it was never actually voluntary, because I resent your implication, thank you very much." The corner of her mouth twitched, and she brushed some of her thick hair behind her shoulder, moving it out of her face. "Besides, it's obvious you don't know anything about what lycacil actually is, or who uses it, or why, because if you did, then maybe you'd have, like, a bit more sympathy. Or a lot. Fully eighty-four percent of all people with a chemical dependence on lycacil developed it entirely involuntarily. But I thought you'd know that."

Tilting her head back and slightly toward the side, she lifted her fingers, focusing her telekinetic sense on the coffee cup with the intent to bring it back to its rightful owner. That would be Tania Filteau, of course.