"Marston is ooonnnee lucky boy..Hehe.."
And he knew how to make her blood boil. One would think just the mere sight of John Marston returning to camp would do it but they weren't exactly wrong. Micah was the other. Such a lucky dog. Was it bliss to see her eyes squint and her hands tighten to a fist at her side?Not that it wouldn't be seen. She wanted to scream at him, grab a pan and throw it at his head. It took her everything she could to be calm, and to not give into his sick needs.
"He is, ain't he? Lucky that he doesn't have a child to raise or a camp to keep fed. He's got looks and stupidity." She murmurs the last of it. Ain't like the camp already knew how she felt. She's loud and hurt and those walls can only get thicker and taller as the days go on.