[No surprise here, but: Darlene likes control, and dislikes being out of control. That's only all the more evident to someone with even read-only access to her brain. Medical shit--a bad diagnosis, incurable illness, early death, coffins and gravestones, pill bottles lined up on a bathroom sink--all of it is so far beyond influence, and it fucking sucks. That's why it is anger more than fear that she puts off at that news.
She looks back in the direction of the comatose, her eyes narrowed.]
no subject
She looks back in the direction of the comatose, her eyes narrowed.]
Cool.
[Not.]
Who laid that bit of intel on you?