She had opened up, had shared the hollow ache in her heart, the thoughts that sat like icy rings around her mind, casting a constant shadow over everything she did. And he had dismissed it, and not only dismissed it, but callously. She sucked in a harsh breath, her expression shuddered and her eyes steely and flat as she regarded his back. She supposed she should have known better, to have been fooled into sharing. She had felt at peace briefly, had felt as though she was in a safe zone with Jefferson. But it still burned. She had overestimated her tolerance, her patience regarding this subject.
Had she misunderstood his tone? She wasn't certain. Still, those careless words rang in her head, pounding her skull to the point of pain. Her expression hardened, a scowl imprinted on her features, a foreign movement of her facial muscles that froze her features into a look that felt strange. She had rarely felt anger, but now it burned, skin deep, bone deep.
She walked stiffly out of the water to stand over the prone Patriarch, her mouth turned downward in distaste, disgust. She had a moment to blame herself for this situation - he had hurt her feelings, and this definitely wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to her. But in this moment, she didn't care. She felt wounded, and instead of hiding, shying away, she felt herself rise above the insecurity. She didn't stop to consider what he might feel. For an awful moment, she didn't care.
"Oh, I don't know," she hissed. "I guess I just had this burning, unfulfilled desire to have a confounding idiot talk down to me and belittle my feelings. Guess I'm just sick that way."