She looked away, down at the ground, scowling.
“Take it or leave it.”
I think Rachel on one level wants to take it, but on another, more conscious level wants to say “fuck your deals”.
She decided to leave it, apparently. Bitch stomped away, slamming the door the moment Bentley passed through it, leaving the rest of us standing there in the rubbish-strewn apartment building.
Close enough. Kinda hard to say “fuck your deals” when your jaw is barely functional.
Grue sighed audibly and looked over our group, “We’d better go. We should decide what we’re going to do with Shadow Stalker, now.”
Ah, yeah. Sure.
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