"This is because I am also slightly malicious. Sorry about that." [ward]
She narrows her eyes, fingers hooked nonchalantly on the rings of her jeans, a sly smile sprawling across her features. “I would say you are more than slightly malicious, Ward.” Neutrality. Disinterest. Expressionless. Agent Blake Carter couldn’t intimate her anger – or her malevolence for that matter – to anyone, especially not Grant Ward. Her pistol, sheathed in its holster, was the only reassurance she had of the rogue nature on which the fourth year was founded. It was also the only reassurance she needed, her sole defensive measure against the monster in front of her (and the monster inside of her, the one he had created…)
“Whatever you intend on doing, whatever malicious implications of which I may infer—-” She cracked her knuckles. “I dare you to try. But bear in mind you do not possess the sort of control over me you used to have.”














