don't you know who i think i am ; private

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]As Bastillepaw opened the door, Suiteheart caught the tail-end of his white-hot rage diminishing. For a moment, she lingered at his question. She wanted to reverse this talk and ask about him. For the last few days, he had seemed out of sorts and angrier than usual, and it worried her deeply. She wanted to be able to help, but she wasn't sure she had the capabilities. Granted, she would gladly burn down all of Tanglewood to show Bast the light, but that would surely land the two of them in a great deal of trouble. And trouble was the last thing Suite needed at the moment.

"Hey, do you mind if I come in to chat for a minute?" she asked, coming to. She would've told him here and now, but the walls had ears. Didn't they? They had to. Maybe she was being paranoid.

Her voice betrayed something like desperation. She trusted Bastille more than anyone else at the moment save for Margaery. He was indifferent to most things, making him the best candidate for spilling her guts to. She just hoped he would remain insouciant for the remainder of their conversation. It would make things easier. It would make her feel like less of the bad guy. At the same time, however, she wouldn't mind anger. Maybe it would knock some fucking sense into her.
[color=#73B1B7][b]
[color=#73B1B7][b]