It was the first time in nearly a year, she had just let go of everything. Every little memory that held a mournful song sang through her bones. Everything she had been holding back, holding in check, tightly against her chest to keep herself from being hurt again, was suddenly out in the open. And she was furious and elated and taken aback all at the same time. Geneva had worked too hard to patch herself up, pull herself together into some semblance of control. She had picked up the pieces of her shattered life, and the woman left standing in the ashes had been someone she hadn't recognized. Restraint had been her greatest ally, and her greatest enemy.
Geneva narrowed her eyes at the one-eyed man. She was tired of running, tired of taking cover from the things that might frighten or hurt her. She had learned, and should have known, that no matter how far or fast she could run, everything would catch up with her. There was no such thing as a safe place. Time might not heal the wounds, but she'd be damned if she would live her life in the shadow of her experiences. And she'd be doubly damned if she would let this ingrate order her around.
She walked boldly into his path, not bothering with restraint or second thoughts. She invaded his personal space, bumping her nose against his, cutting off his line of retreat. "Perhaps I should go," she said breathily, still angry, still teeming and confused and unwilling to walk away from whatever reason. "But then there'd be no one to teach a pompous, vacuous idiot manners and people skills."