rough touch (cuz i'm bored and enjoy talking to you)
2. My muse throws a punch at yours.
You’d gotten fairly good at learning to tune out the incessant begging and chattering and insults and compliments and whatever else spilled from the seadweller’s lips by now. You found yourself currently at your desk, examining some delicate bauble you’d found amongst other treasure from one of your more recent treasure hunts. You didn’t worry about Meenah being over your shoulder. She wasn’t likely to steal from you at this point. She knew better.
Apparently, however, she didn’t seem to know better than to touch you while you were working and in her impatience and frustration she grabbed your arm, trying to capture your attention. And you dropped the little figurine to the floor where it shattered into a million microscopic pieces. Reflexively, in a moment of anger, your fingers gripped the wrist of the offending hand, and your metal fist came into contact with her cheek.