"Baby, let's just— calm down, alright?" Victoria placates, smile straining her lips. She looks, maddeningly, immaculately composed; as always. The only indication of anything amiss is the unnerving steeliness in her eyes, which has never been directed at you— and the way she wrings the sleeves of her blazer. An anxious habit, one you haven't seen in years. Something close to laughter bubbles up within you.

You should be the one anxious. For Christ's sake—she could pop your fucking head off.