“Has anyone told you what a fucking little shit you are, sometimes Anna? You want to stop acting like a little brat and grit your teeth and deal with it?” He was getting sick of the attitude. Sure, they ended off on bad terms, sure she wanted to kill him the first time they met after all–THATS BESIDES THE POINT. Anna was acting like a brat, and it wasn’t because of him. Doing missions for the Americans, there was something that didn’t fit. “We both know you wouldn’t even take care of it yourself. What you want, is to be a masochist. You don’t give a fuck if your pain causes pain for others.”
She wants to pull her shoulders away from his grip, but, whether or not she admits, he’s always been stronger. Lips tight against one another, she hears his words in silence. She’s used to it, isn’t she? Harsh words, hatred, anger. Her arms are stained with her blood, but she doesn’t care. Anna tightens her knuckles until they’re white – her blood is boiling inside of her, anger filling her veins as her breath hitches. “Shut the fuck up, Dimitri. You don’t know shit.” It hurts, doesn’t it? Perhaps it’s her shoulder burning, but she knows better. She’s always been too smart for her own good. “You don’t get it. You don’t get any of it.” She spits the words, venom and anger and hatred. They’ve never been anything but extreme, isn’t it true?