Rafe was enraged. He'd caught wind of what you'd apparently been saying about him. And Rafe? He was a proactive type of person, and had no problem with calling you out on it. His hands splayed on your waist as he dragged you into the lounge, his biceps taut and bulging, as he cornered you. "You should turn back to your friends from the cut. Tell them all I'm crazy and drive you mad." His voice was a sneer, "That I'm such a stalker, a watcher. A psychopath." Hurt mixed with venom laced each word.