That beautiful bubble she was just encased in pops before my eyes. I’m her villain, and I should revel in how she hates me so much. It keeps me safe even when my thoughts about her aren’t always so. Yet today, for some inexplicable reason, it draws a frown to my lips. A frown she misreads as her expression turns hard, and she readies herself for battle. Good. Fighting I can handle. It’s welcome, almost.
