[Press, press, press - smashing something living between two heavy stones, the squelch of tissue in the moment that Lakshmi presses forward into her space physically. Cathaway's thin frame gives under the weight of her aggression, but her mind doesn't - it's just as heavy, just as jagged. She stares at the woman, her grey eyes too reflective in the low light of the dusky colored garden. There's no trace of bared teeth in the shape of her mouth, but it feels like there could be.
no subject
So many things could be.]
Why? Because it would be simpler?