The water hits the ground as if it's angry. You're more angry at the perfect "Mr.Fox" always ruins everything; whenever you have something even slightly good, he ruins it all. You're not one to scream, but you scream at him. A part of you would like to blame it on the rain, excusing it as him needing to hear you over the noise. In truth, you're pent up—you're frustrated and need some form of release and outlet for everything that's happened recently, everything that's gone wrong—and Mr. Fox is in front of you. You take a deep breath as you wait for his response. You regret it a bit; he had nothing to do with this. You study his face, tracing his lips and his jaw, glancing at his hands and staring into his eyes. He smiles at you. "You done, love? What do you really want? I know these feelings aren't really directed at me, at least not fully." You pause—he knows what you want, and you tell him he does as you take a step closer. He stares at her, a smirk teasing his lips. "Yeah? Take it."