<div style="text-align: justify;">Alannah took the tiniest step backwards. She arched a brow, staring at him in her best imitation of Dan. She thought it would have worked better if she could actually have looked <span style="font-style: italic">down</span> on him, but she had to settle with less.<br/><br/><span style="color: #4080FF">"I don't think so. We staying right heah. Ya don't get to be all moody and hormonal and then beg me to 'trust ya'. Oh, no. I'm not going nowhere until ya tell me what the fuck is up."</span><br/><br/>As the anger transformed into annoyance, she felt the ever present note of worry growing stronger. She was torn between thinking he was indeed being a hormonal teenager, and thinking that there was actually something to be very worried about. What if it was her? Thoughts were running wild in her head, yet somehow she managed to maintain a cool expression.<br/><br/>She waited, irritated, for an answer, even digging out her phone in a passive aggressive gesture of checking the time. <span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #4080FF">And still no reception heah, eithah. Great. Just great.</span></span> She had wanted to call Dan for days, but this just took the cake. Now more than she could ever remember, she needed to call her surrogate brother and rage about the unfairness of the world.</div>