Raffy really wanted to say finally. The whole heart-to-heart thing wasn’t typically her style; it had the slight risk of getting attached. Though, Raffy was a bit too cold to get attached easily. She preferred the artificial bonding over shared interests’ route; it gave her room to maneuver. Raffy kept a sincere, apologetic countenance despite her annoyance, her eyes wide and her mouth frowning somewhat. Every once in a while she would change it vaguely as to give the impression she was [i]harmlessly[/i] thinking. The official manipulation would begin tomorrow and she was excited, giddy even. Raffy, after all, wasn’t happy unless she was in control.

“Let’s talk ‘bout something else.” Raffy uttered, clearing her throat in ersatz discomfort. “I…really like the movie [i]Jaws[/i]. Not the second or third, but the first original one. Old movies are so good. Has anyone ever seen [i]The Breakfast Club[/i]? Best movie ever, I say.”

Raffy wasn’t lying. She loved these movies with a passion, and she didn’t want to think about their situation. She didn’t want to think about their town of ashes. Raphaela wanted to focus on the mindlessness she received when watching a good movie, when she ignored everything that happened around her in preference to a moving picture. Raffy felt like crying, not because she was sad, but because she was angry. She lost nothing, she was fine, she still had herself. Except for control. She was [i]not[/i] in control and she [i]needed[/i] to have control. Raffy bit down the feelings, promised herself power; promised herself that, in the morning, everything would be fixed. The tears died down and she waited for someone’s response to her questions.