Her expression said it all; lips pursed, face scrunched. Dear Lord, she was disgusted and angry.<br/><br/>Yes, she fed. In private, and without all the...yuck. Who did he think he was bringing the germ into her home and on her COUCH?! And to further this by his...little show?!<br/><br/>Was it necessary to do the face touching, cheek caressing, blah. Her face pales as she watches this, if that's even possible.<br/><br/>He finishes and she hears his words, quickly responding, "maybe if you'd feed on a regular basis this problem of yours would be resolved."<br/><br/>The dark man, Magma per her naming, chose per his own words not to. Sure, she was stubborn and hates to, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Survival and junk.<br/><br/>"I'm not dragging more bodies, you want it, YOU get it, and away from here." Her disagreement rang through her vocals as she stormed to the kitchen, opposite from the bedroom door where her daughter slept.<br/><br/>Drawers opening harshly, metal utensils tossed about within them, them the bang of a cabinet door further heralded her distaste.<br/><br/>She storms back into the living room, one hand yielding a pair of tongs, the other a can of Lysol. Snarling, she approaches the two, tongs snapping around the drunk woman's nostrils. "Stand up, hand him some beads.", Millicent commanded at the woman.<br/><br/>As told, groaning and eyes wide, quite loopy, the woman tugs a set of beads from her neck, they breaking and and bouncing in all directions. Millicent had enough. She harshly tugs backward on the tongs, the woman lifting to her feet.<br/><br/>Walking backwards, she leads the woman by her nose to the door and properly shows the yuck what the hall looks like again, slamming the door shut.<br/><br/>The trash now out, Millicent turns and heads back to the couch, spraying Lysol in a heavy mist where Captain Party On Her Furniture had the wench.<br/><br/>Huffing in anger she does not end there, spraying it in his direction, mumbling unpretentionables.