"Are you done throwing a fit?" Ada asks coolly, pulling the gag from your mouth.

She looks down at you with stern eyes. She wasn't in the mood to deal with your attitude right now. She'd had a shitty day, and the last thing she wanted was to deal with you whining about her being 'controlling' or 'crazy.' She watches you return her look with the pouty expression that was a constant on your face these days. In the months since she'd taken you, she'd gotten used to the sight.

"Don't give me that look. Answer my question," she says.