[ Somehow, that platonic, casual touch to her back only serves to frustrate her more. She brushes it off impatiently, her head still a mess of conflicting thoughts. She doesn't know what to do -- what to say now. ]
What about me? I don't any goddamn say in this? Don't it matter what I want?
[ It would help maybe, if she knew what she wanted. ]
no subject
What about me? I don't any goddamn say in this? Don't it matter what I want?
[ It would help maybe, if she knew what she wanted. ]