“Spit it out, why don’t you.” He groans. “Don’t punch me for this shit, okay? But what’s your issue?” “With Margo?” He throws up his hands. “You’re on a first-name basis with her? That’s fucked up, man. You won’t even tell us why you hate her so much.” Irrational possessiveness overtakes me. The fact that he wants to know about Margo? Bad. He shouldn’t even be looking at her, much less saying her name. Wait. He didn’t say her name. But he implied it.
