“Amazingly mature?”
Maybe that’s not something Vista hears as much as she’d like to. Or maybe she’s a little offended that Flechette didn’t expect it from her.
They had reached the PRT building. A trip that had taken them thirty minutes on the way out had taken them four on the way back, with the aid of Vista’s power.
Pretty sweet!
Flechette held the bulletproof glass door open, raised a hand in greeting to the PRT uniform who stood alert on the other side. “You know what I mean.”
Does she, though?
Vista had to bite her tongue. Pointing out that people were being condescending had a way of making her look petulant, which only compounded the problem. Yes. Because any maturity on my part is something special. Doesn’t matter that I have nine months of seniority over Kid Win, being thirteen means everyone expects me to be squealing over Justin Beiber or the Maggie Holt books, or dressing in pink or-
Welp, looks like it was the latter option.
Also I’m glad you have better taste than squealing over Justin Bieber. I’m not even talking about his music – from all I’ve heard, the guy’s a douche.
…wait, he had gotten famous all the way back in 2012? Sheesh, time flies.
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