“ yes, i made a mistake. i broke my own damn heart crushing on the paramount of the wrong guy. it was inappropriate and unethical and i have taken full responsibility for that. but that does not preclude my right to defend myself against what i, apparently erroneously, perceived as an unwarranted attack upon the integrity of my character. if i misinterpreted you, i do apologize for that. ”

and exhale. calm down. he didn’t mean any harm. she’s wound tight with a considerable dose of righteous anger like a holy flame seething and spitting in the base of her gut, and she knows it — but she makes no move to regret defending herself against off-colour implications that she might have done something outright illicit or that she might do so again in the future. she’s no saint, but she deserves more respect than that.

at the mention of prozac, she finally softens, gaze dropping ; oddly, she almost envies him. at least he has a treatment plan that works. she’s just hurt, angry, and afraid at least 3/4 of the time, and with no apparent way to recover any time soon.

“ comment retracted, in that case. ”