Funny, you preaching about shiny newness, when you're the fucking carbon copy of at least a dozen other boys in this room. [ She responds more testily. She doesn't have a problem with him leaning into her space - of course not. She just wants him to stop. ] At least I have a face they'll remember.

[ Her fingers do uncurl from his shirt, though she sneers at him as she pats down the rumpled spot as patronizingly as she can manage. ] You really are all the same.