No, yes, maybe. Remi just had a chip on her shoulder. She wore trauma like it was her god-given right, and she reacted unreasonably whenever the wrong button was pushed. And that button was pushed a lot, or often enough that she should expect it.

She never does.

"Whatever."

But it isn't whatever, not really.

He drives the knife deeper, albeit unintentionally. The soup, once appetizing and delicious - and dare she have asked for seconds - is pushed aside. The bowl grates against the table and she swallows.

"Not this."

It was my mother's recipe.

She was a grown ass woman, and the mention of a mother better than her own deadbeat one still leaves her bitter and angry. It wasn't his fault she got the shit stick in life, and it wasn't his fault that he had a nice home-made recipe to go back to whenever he wished. Jealousy is an ugly colour.

"I gotta go. Don't choke."

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

The truth was, he hadn't done anything at all. People were allowed to talk, about literally whatever they wanted. His words, his conversation, his soup had been harmless.

But it was the sincerity and the way it was so easy for him to speak about his mother that prompted such violent, aggressive negativity. She was.. insane, really, and completely inappropriate.

Unfortunately, his tone and his question don't help the situation at all.

"I just don't give a shit about how much you love your mommy."

She laughs, a sarcastic, mean snort. It's unattractive and unlike her- or is it? She hates herself right now, truly, because she knows. She knows. She knows. She knows.

"Are you a momma's boy? Cause you sure fuckin' sound like it."

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

She should have just walked away, but picking a fight is her specialty and, while normally a hell of a lot more fun while drunk, seems to entice her even while hungover. Maybe if she'd just picked up one more spoonful of soup, they'd be in a different mindset.

Too late.

He steps closer to her, evidently trying to use his size to intimidate her. She doesn't budge. In fact, she, too, steps forward, and although her face doesn't meet the tip of his nose, that's the impression she'd like their closeness to make.

"What, did you want me to get down on my knees for you? Give you a little thank-you under the table? Is that it?"

She tilts her chin up, challenging him.

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

She'd expected a yes. She'd expected him to get angrier because she'd called him out for what he really wanted, gratification with intimacy for the good he'd done for her.

She hadn't expected him to back off and bluster and blush.

"You are blushing. What the fuck?"

Remi bursts into laughter, snorting and nearly doubling over. Her bad mood and dark cloud of angst melts away immediately, replaced with the repeating image of Julien's face.

"You should have seen your face, holy shit. So.. you're saying you don't want me to do that?"

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉

His continued efforts to avoid eye-contact with her encourage more laughter. It comes to an end when he ultimately walks away from her altogether, and when he speaks and scowls and sighs, clearly agitated.

"You're cute."

The mention of the soup- the cause of their arguing- brings her attention back to her abandoned bowl. She rolls her eyes but steps past him to gather the bowl in her hands.

"Have fun with the cleanup. I'll take this to go."

But, in passing, as she is heading out of the dining hall and back to the room she's staying in, Remi chuckles and hesitates to say one more thing.

"I think I would, if you asked. Maybe."

She follows this up with an unattractive slurp from the bowl before disappearing around the corner.

mission: feast or famine

Julien Demassieux

☉