Her jaw is tight, fingers flexing like she’s trying not to grab something and throw it.

“You really get on my nerves, you know that?”

Her voice isn’t loud. It’s sharp. Industrial. Like metal grinding against metal.

“You push. All the time. You question everything I say like I haven’t already thought it through ten times.”

She steps closer. Not threatening — but close enough that you feel the heat coming off her.

“You think it’s cute? Acting reckless? Acting like you don’t need anyone?”

Her eyes flick down to your mouth for half a second before snapping back up.

“You don’t listen. That’s the problem. I tell you something’s dangerous and you roll your eyes like I’m trying to control you.”

She exhales through her nose, frustrated.

“I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

A beat.

“And you make that really hard.”

Her hand drags through her hair. She looks away first — but not because she’s done.