[Fiona, meanwhile, reacts with a start, a little jolt of her shoulders. That wasn't the answer she expected. What did she just get herself into? She leans forward after leaning back, face pinched into an expression of sorrowful confusion. She's lost, here, but the situation is delicate. She needs to understand it.]
[What did she do?] You're not... serving me? [Why would he be? No one ever serves her, she serves herself, and others. It's not the other way around. She never wanted control of another person-- some innate sensibility (that would, if asked, define itself, perhaps wrongly, as 'American') rejects the notion. She only ever wanted control of herself.] Are you?
why do u hurt me like this
[What did she do?] You're not... serving me? [Why would he be? No one ever serves her, she serves herself, and others. It's not the other way around. She never wanted control of another person-- some innate sensibility (that would, if asked, define itself, perhaps wrongly, as 'American') rejects the notion. She only ever wanted control of herself.] Are you?