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The moment she sees him, she freezes. Her softly-curving ears flatten instantly into her mane, her blue eyes narrowed in contempt, and she tosses her head as he gets closer, stomping a hind hoof in warning. Then he opens his mouth - and the drivel that comes out only further sours her already-curdled mood. This is great. This is just great. They're barely ten words into this unfortunate conversation and he's already pissed her off. Of course it's yours, she thinks, irritation flushing warmth into her cheeks. Who else's could it possibly be?

She wants to rip that grin from his face with her teeth, spit it out, and grind it into the dirt. Instead, she waits for him to finish, muscles tensing as he pushes into her ever-widening personal bubble. "You never asked," she says, "just like I never asked for the pleasure of your company," and jabs that same hind hoof out towards him with a squeal, hoping to kick him away. "Not then, and not now, you prick." Vitani spits venom with her words; her body language echoes it. But beneath it, barely imperceptible, there is hurt in her voice. They could have been something, this shining beacon of a man and her. Instead, they are this.

She continues walking, even as the creature shifts within her, pressing against her lungs so that she's rendered breathless. "I'm going to go see someone that actually loves me. Not that you'd know," she says, forced to a halt, "what that is," and gulps down air in a few ragged, seething pants.

Vitani steadies, her eyes lifting up to his. For a second - just a second - her body language betrays her, still too focused on staying upright to hide the vulnerability in her face... and then it's gone, lost beneath a glare and a pair of curling, back-pinned ears. A new fury takes her, this one directed at herself: for her weakness, her failure to hold it all together in his presence. Her carelessness, showing him her hand without even thinking about it, outlining her Achilles' heel and telling him where to hit. She couldn't believe herself. What would Mother say, if she knew?

The heat of it is too much. Vitani can't take it anymore: as she breaks, crumbling under the pressure of her own impossible standards, she turns that anger and disappointment and despair away from herself, pointing it all squarely at him. "Leave. Go back to the mud hole you crawled out of, Swamp Thing," she hisses, snaking her head low to try and drive him from her side. "You're good at that."

Khajiit, Kovu, and now him - leaving was the only thing any man in her life had ever been good at.