[ Shadowheart has just managed to ease the bruise (to her dignity, she tells herself, for letting herself be fooled by a man who didn't care for her at all--though in truth, it's a bruise to her heart) when the message lights up her phone. It takes her a moment to understand what she's seeing (and who she's seeing, another stab of betrayal with the recognition of Armand).
Her reply is near-immediate: not thinking of the best way to wound him back, just angry. ]
[ This is a wretched confession to make, when it makes her vulnerable--but Shadowheart also has no intention of speaking to Stephen, after this. And maybe it will hurt him, too. ]
I liked you.
She did, too. I felt the depth of her care and I felt the way you held yourself above her and everyone around you, with your wealth and your so-called brilliance.
And now I see that you're a small man who isn't even the smartest or cleverest in the room. Your papers and your qualifications mean nothing here.
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Her reply is near-immediate: not thinking of the best way to wound him back, just angry. ]
What is wrong with you?
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You should ask Goodsir. He's been attempting a diagnosis.
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[ This takes a moment longer to send: ]
I should have known better. When I saw how you treated Christine, I should have paid attention.
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Yes. You probably should have.
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I liked you.
She did, too. I felt the depth of her care and I felt the way you held yourself above her and everyone around you, with your wealth and your so-called brilliance.
And now I see that you're a small man who isn't even the smartest or cleverest in the room. Your papers and your qualifications mean nothing here.
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Ok then. You have a nice night.
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