She wished they'd just say the stupid fucking things she could hear them thinking.<br/><br/>It was everything she could do to play nice with them when she could see the way their noses wrinkled and their lips curled in disgust before they could hide it. At least when she'd run in the city, the assholes just spat their shit and they got through it--when she was up, she'd make a snide remark of her own and they'd laugh it off. When she was down, well... at least they'd learn not to run their fucking mouths.<br/><br/>All she would have to do is let go. She'd seen them all transform, she'd seen them fight--all she'd have to do is let Big Bad out to play for a bit and not a<span style="font-style: italic">one</span>of them would have stood a fighting...<br/><br/>Keep an even breath. No expression. Eyes down. Don't draw blood, they'll smell it. Try and keep your body relaxed, they'll see the tension.<br/><br/>And then Thomas showed up.<br/><br/>Fuck Thomas.<br/><br/>The problem with Thomas was that he was a good Alpha. He was smart enough to keep them together, knew how to run a pack, was respected, well liked, strong enough to hold his own... but not, the throbbing behind her eyes reminded her, stronger than her. Not a better fighter than her, a better killer, a better beast. And she couldn't show him that, because she knew where that road led, and she knew that when it came down to it she couldn't lead a pack the way he could. She could kill her way to the top, but there wouldn't be anything left by the time she got there, and she'd be alone again.<br/><br/>Was that, the throbbing behind her eyes asked, such a bad thing? Was it worse than being looked down on, then watching them bite back their snide little cuts? Than letting them think she was some submissive little bitch? It couldn't be worse then watching them pass her over when all she would had to do was<span style="font-style: italic">let go</span>--<br/><br/>Breathe. Eyes down. No blood. Relax. Answer the question.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"So Michelle, any trouble sleeping of late?"</span><br/><br/>Swallowing quietly and wetting her lips, she pulled her hands away from each other and shoved them in her pockets--she'd been picking away at the skin around her nails. Not exactly calm behavior.<br/><br/>"Can't say I usually sleep well." She said with a shrug and a slight laugh before she looked up to Kakasha. She could see the woman's surprise at not being picked as well, and could sympathize--like Kakasha, she rationalized it. Seravi was a better choice; she could be relied on not to turn a fight into a massacre. She forced herself to relax, to let it go, and the pressure behind her eyes faded a bit. "But yeah, not all that much as of late. 'tis the season, I guess, or almost."<br/><br/>The first rule of Heat was that you did not talk about Heat.<br/><br/>"You nervous, at all? Can't be your favorite time of the year."<br/><br/>You talked<span style="font-style: italic">around</span>Heat.