She aimed her slingshot at your head, ready for you to switch into the neighbour at any second.

“How do I know you aren’t Mr. Peterson?”

Finch hissed, narrowing her eyes as she looked you up and down. She expected a good or average reading of why you aren’t, only for it to be you.

She stared at you, wanting an answer as you had your hands raised in fear of getting shot with the rocks.